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lovelessdagger · 1 year

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Starlight - Chapter Thirty-Three: The Fruits of Sin

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Smut

Warnings: Explicit Language. Graphic Violence. Torture/Whump. Imperialism. Drugs and Alcohol

Words: 7.7k

Summary : “Mayfeld at least, finds the humor. “I guess that’s how you know it’s real love, huh? Neither of you know who the fuck the other is and you still care bout each other. Secrets be damned.”

Starlight Masterlist Here

Read Chapter Thirty-Two Here

Read on AO3 Here

The anger comes the easiest, therefore it is also the most difficult. It infects Din Djarin like a slow moving parasite, crawling up his nerves and spinal cord before settling in the back of his head. It makes camp inside his psyche, a heavyweight champion of grief.

The dark lost all its comfort. Shadows which were once an escape are filled with void.

Things don’t improve with the helmet on, orange data displays induce headaches. His beskar, reflective, repellant. It has nothing to shine for here, in whatever remains of the Mandalorian covert on Nevarro. Din confines himself to its cut stone in the early morning and late nights. He avoids what he can of stars, the vision an insult.

“I would have never looked at her if I knew this would come from it.”

In making the statement, Din believed it. How could he not? No one in their right minds would actively choose this path, this way. But with the passage of six days and the growing infection, somehow he’s always known this would happen. From the very beginning she did nothing but warn him against her. The results were always going to be devastating, they knew no other way to exist.

Din willingly gave himself from that very moment in the hangar. He wanted to, so he did. And he liked it. He wanted more than the Creed would ever allow, so he took it, accepting any excuse from himself.

He can’t think of it for too long without the on-surge of a migraine paired with sickness in his gut. He gets spacey when asked of it, any of it. He becomes irrational, on the edge of a tantrum like a spoiled child.

They all notice he’s different. Stalking Nevarro half dead and possessed. They give him attempts of disguised altruism to mask pity.

Greef Karga tried, approaching Din by the town’s square in front of the IG-11 statue. “Dune told me about your kid. Sorry to hear it. We’ve got a spare room for you and your girl at the inn… where is she?”

Fennec offered him the floor of the Slave I. Boba retracted it.

Cara has food prepared and ready for him to grab from the cantina whenever he wants. After the third day she started including a bottle of liquor. Din never considered himself a drinker, but he always takes until the last drop.

He and Fett can’t talk without an argument starting. Over nothing. Everything. So they don’t.

The Child’s absence, Grogu, is the worst. It is without debate and only experience that Din claims the loss of a child is far worse than a parent. He can’t remember the last time he’s cried the way he has.

Din’s helmet sits across from him now, the unwelcomed guest to dinner. Taking a swig of cheap beer, his hand runs over his face. He needs to shave, a hair cut, a shower.

He needs to get away from himself.

“Su’cuy gar.” The voice echos from behind, Boba Fett. “I was told I would find you here.”

“Nar’sheb.” Din scoffs, tension rising in his shoulders. With his back turned, he makes no move for his helmet. “What do you want?”

“Your friend, Marshal Dune. She says her clearance was approved to pick up your contact.”

“You’re talking to Dune now?”

“Fennec is.” His footsteps sound closer, two behind Din. “You know, I’ve never seen it last this long. I hate to say I’m impressed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Boba shrugs. “You’ll learn. Are you still against bringing her back?”

“I told you. She won’t come back. She’s on their side, deal with it.” Din scoffs, shaking his head. “I know you aren’t here for small talk. So why don’t you say whatever it is you want and get out.”

He waits for Boba’s punch or other threat of violence. Instead there’s a reach over his shoulder, a holoframe set by Din’s food. It powers on, edges are old and worn from frequent handling.

Din leans forward, grabbing the metal. There’s a teenager, dark hair, curled at the end, and skin overly tanned. He’s annoyed in the way all children are at the delicate age. Din recognizes the second from the photo on the ship. Now matured into a young woman, hair dyed dark with blonde roots. To the third he frowns, blinking away emotion. “Who is that?”

“Who do you think?”

“Not Lumina.”

“No?”

Din’s head shakes again, jaw clenched. “No.” His tongue clicks the roof of his mouth. “Looks nothing like her.”

Boba snorts. “I think you’re the first person to ever say that.”

“So who is it?”

“Photo’s almost fifteen years old,” Boba says. Din doesn’t think when he turns, and Boba doesn’t comment. “Take a guess.”

“Fett—“

“When my sister discovered I worked for the Empire, she cut off all communications with me. She was scared my involvement would hurt the boy.” He chuckles. “He’s the same as yours. She dedicated her whole life protecting him, just as I did with Adi.”

“He’s the same?” Din repeats, slow.

“So is she.”

“Your sister?”

His head bobs. “Her too.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Din asks. Quiet, fearful of the cave’s echo.

“When I said she was back to how she was, my meaning wasn’t of her morality. That has always been strong. If she wanted to steal your child she would have done so a long time ago. That girl has no regard for her own safety, but she cares for her own. She’ll do whatever it takes to protect the Child, you must know that.”

“That’s what I did. Sometimes, the best place to hide is in plain sight.”

“What if her intentions with them are true? What if you’re wrong, and this is just who she is? She admitted to conspiring with the Empire, with Gideon.”

“If you believe that, then your child is already dead.” Boba retrieves the frame, slapping its back to his palm. “We leave for your contact first thing. I recommend you pull yourself together before then.” He turns on his heel, walking away from Din. “K’atini.”

“Fett!” Din shouts after, Boba already down the hall. “Who was that?”

“You wanted to know what I know,” Boba calls. “That’s what you get. Put your helmet on before the rats see you as well.”

Snapping to the beskar, Din imagines it laughs at him.

---

Lumina finds herself to be seventeen again. She lands crouched, one hand pressed on the ground. Her eyes squeeze shut to ignore the pounding in her head and the ringing in her ears. Everything is suffocating, the air, the voices, the electricity.

“Again,” she hears the Machine say.

Sweat beads across her forehead, wiped with the back of her hand holding a training blaster. Deactivated droids double her size stand scattered, metal heads dropped to chests. Except one, a foot taller and—debatably—more human than the rest.

In the months since Yavin, her training increased tenfold. She grew new muscles, eating more only to make up for the extra calories burned. She preferred her hair then in these situations, shaved sides and longer at the top. Now her bun breaks and front pieces create a horrific halo. She’s lost all control.

Standing on wobbly knees, she stumbles to the only table in the room. She grabs a canteen, chugging room temperature water until the mechanical breathing fades away with the rest of the hallucination.

“Impressive,” Moff Gideon says, replacing the vision of the Machine.

Lumina bends until her head rests against the cool surface. “What was my time?”

“Twenty-three,” Ghost says. She stands beside the Moff, opposite Lumina. Her arms cross over her chest. “Fastest time yet, right Doctor?”

Pershing nods. He sits behind some computer, attachments on Lumina’s arms and chest sending her vitals. “Her performance improved by one second exactly.”

“I can do better,” Lumina says. She stands, tapping the barrel of the gun to her head. “Reset the simulation.”

As a teenager, she would have thrown her blaster to the ground; march to the Machine with the ferocity of a dragon. In his armor she would see only herself in her fight.

“You’ve gone six time already,” Ghost says.

“I have failed six times,” Lumina says, echoing him. “I’ll go until I get it right. Reset the simulation.”

“You’ll injure yourself.”

“I’m too slow.”

“Because you’re tired.”

“War, does not care for your weakness,” the Machine said to her. “You are not allowed to be tired.”

“I’m fine. Reset it.”

“Using your lightsaber would lead to faster success,” Gideon says. Its on the table, by the now empty canteen. “The dark troopers are built to withstand assault from regular men and weaponry. Not magic.”

“He’s right,” Ghost agrees. “This training does nothing substantial for you, or us. If they were fully activated you’d be dead with that gun.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t think that’s something you want to test,” she laughs. “You proved your point. You’re fast and you know how to shoot. Are we done here?”

“I don’t recall inviting you to this,” Lumina snaps. “If you’re so bored you’re welcomed to leave. You can make yourself useful for once, clean the mess hall.”

“Don’t be a bitch.”

Lumina’s lightsaber flies into her hand, marched steps stopping two feet from the Inquisitor. “Don’t test me,” she challenges.

“Stand down,” Gideon says.

“Bite me,” she answers, then and now. A patch on the back of her neck shocks, bending her to her knees. She glares upwards, Ghost stifles a laugh with the back of her hand.

“Control yourself, 318.”

Lumina’s face pinches, head twitching. “Yes sir,” she mutters. When it stops, she stands again.

“Drop your weapon.”

She does, lightsaber falling in Gideon’s hand.

Gideon nods to Pershing. “We’re done for the day,” he says. “Remove her wires.”

“I’m not—“ Lumina argues.

“You are when I say you are. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Return her to her quarters,” he instructs Ghosts.

“Actually, Moff Gideon,” Ghost says. She places her hand over his bicep, turning inwards to face. Her fingers lightly massage, she almost looks sweet. “I was hoping you could clear her for a little mission I have planned.”

“A mission?”

“Yes,” she answers. “I believe it would help her acclimate to her position if she could leave the ship for once.”

“Out of the question.”

“Don’t be so dull, Gideon,” Ghost drags, taking the lightsaber. “I’ll have her on my leash like a dog. Besides, where would she run? Home?”

As if it were an option at all.

---

Bass rattles the inside of Club Kasakar, footsteps stick to the floor coated in spilt liquor. Humidity comes from sweat and sex, over a hundred bodies half naked and high.

A head of spiked auburn hair bobs through the crowd. Three Trandoshans follow her, one in front, two in back. The crowds don’t part the way they should, crashing waves of rejection and lust all around. Strobe lights make vision impossible.

Coming to the back, the elevated platform holding a stained leather couch is occupied. Realistically, Relena O’Menfe should have expected the guest. Sat on the edge, legs spread. Smoke clouds her face, falling from her lips and the roll of origin between her gloved fingers.

The Trandoshans leave, taking position on the perimeter. A guard for her instead. Relena scoffs. “Who the fuck let you in here?”

The girl smiles. “Surprised?” She sounds sweet, like honey. “I was in the area, figured I’d stop by.” She takes a drag of her cigarette, dropping her head back to blow. “This place smells like shit.”

“Cleaners got sloppy.”

She looks down. “Sure.”

“You’re not welcomed here anymore,” Relena says. “So I suggest you go back to the hole you crawled out of before I make you.”

She laughs. “You don’t scare me. We both know I could turn you inside out if I wanted to, and it’s tempting.”

Relena steps forward, her hand falling to the blaster on her hip. “Last warning.”

“Or what?”

“I tell your little Imperial family where you are. They’ll be here in no time.”

“Cute. You thinking that scares me.”

“You shouldn’t have come here alone. Your boyfriend can’t protect you now.”

“Actually, it’s more a shame for you that he can’t be here.” She stands, walking until she drops off the platform. Smoke blows in Relena’s face. “Now I have nothing stopping me.”

“Back away,” Relena warns. Her blaster lifts, pointed to the girl’s chest. “You don’t want to do this in public.”

“Oh yes I do.”

“That lightsaber goes off and there’s New Republic up your ass in minutes.”

“I don’t need a saber to deal with you. We both know that.”

“Atikya, this is your last warning.”

“You know what’s funny?” Suddenly, she sounds from behind Relena. Her figure, a duplicate, steps into view from the left. She wears a uniform, Imperial, and her eyes are brown. She swirls a glass of liquor, taking a sip. “That’s not my name.”

Relena double takes. The girl in front, to the left, in front, and to the left again. Eyes widen, she steps back. “What’s going on?”

“Never has been,” Lumina continues. She steps through the one in front, its image fades into the air like it never existed. “When I introduced myself to Sully, I said my name was Adi’ka.” She hops onto the platform, sitting like the phantom had. “There’s a difference in the accent when you pronounce it,” she waves, “It’s a cultural thing, I don’t expect you to understand.”

“How did you do that?”

“It was actually Neri who said it was Atikya, but he thought it was ugly so… Ayy’Numa. Really I should have just stuck with Tracker, or Echo—that’s what my dad called me. It would easier for everyone, good branding too.” She looks at Relena, head tilted. Challenging. “Keep pointing that blaster at me and I’ll break your hand.”

It returns to Relena’s holster, wordless.

Satisfied, Lumina grabs a loose cigarette on the table, lighting it. She stares at the burning end. “I quit years ago,” she says, killing it in the tray. “Bad for the senses, smell gave me headaches.” She takes a sip. “Not opposed to a drink though. ” She looks at Relena, eyes rolling. “It’s an illusion trick, takes years to master.”

“That’s new.”

Humming, Lumina waves mid drink. “Mm, no not me.” She points across to the bar, to a figure in similar costume. Black and red. White as a ghost, staring at them. “Her. So, what was that about calling the Empire? Again, right? I mean, there’s no other way they’d end up on Daro.” She sets down the glass, leaning forward. “Or gain access to my confidential reports.”

Pink lips purse. “You went back to them.”

“Not like I had much of a fucking choice, did I?” Lumina pats down her kama, tapping the armorweave. “Got a killer upgrade out of it though. I’d take this over cargo pants any day, they never fit right.”

“Why did you come here?” Relena asks. She stands straighter. Less proud.

“I had to take a trip to the compound,” Lumina says. “My friend over there said she’d keep you busy while I checked on things. It’s nice of you to keep my room intact. Glad I got these boots back too.” She kicks out her foot, showing off the worn leather. “Imperial grade ones are uncomfortable and I don’t have time to break them in.”

��Atikya if you’re going to threaten to kill me just do it. I don’t have time for you.”

Lumina beckons towards herself, dragging Relena forward through the Force. “I should,” she says. She doesn’t stop until shins hit the platform. “Hell, I should do a lot worse than kill you. As far as I’m concerned, death is mercy.”

Lumina stands, she walks until they’re inches apart. She cups Relena’s chin and bends so their eyes meet. “You should’ve seen what I did when they found me,” she whispers over the music. “What I did to the Mandalorian. He—” She laughs. “He really got the shit end of it.”

The statement grabs attention, tangible fear making home inside. The Mandalorian? The same she herself committed danger to whomever harmed him? Surely not.

“I turned his brain to mush,” Lumina goes on to say. Though her vision stays locked on her companion. “I saw his pretty little face and took everything away from him. He has no idea who he is anymore. I ruined his life.” She tracks back to Relena, leaning in. “All because he got in my way.” Her eyes flicker back and forth, she sniffs. “All because… you got in my way.” She lets go. “Do you know where he is right now?” Lumina shrugs to her own question. “If he’s not dead, I assume… he’s back on Nevarro. Getting a sorry little team of misfits together to save his kid, from me. Except…” She chuckles, eyes meeting Relena’s again. “I have no fucking clue where he is. And the bitch at the bar thinks I’m an idiot and won’t tell me.”

“Ati, I don’t know what happened to your kid,” Relena whispers.

“I know,” Lumina coos. “But the issue with that is—well without him or his dad… I really don’t have anything to lose. Which means I could do anything to you and, I won’t care. And then it’s no longer fun for me. You’re not an accomplishment on my list.” She jumps off the platform. “In fact, you’re at the bottom.”

“So you won’t kill me?”

“No,” Lumina says. “I won’t kill you. I need you.” She walks away, towards a door in the corner and disappears inside. One of the guards shoves Relena’s back so she follows.

Stairs lead to the upper level, the business end of Kasakar. It’s a long decrypt hallway, wood rotten under feet. One door stands opened, across the office. It’s hers—Lumina’s.

Walls are lined with various blasters, rifles and pistols, the whole lot. Open drawers hold knives of various lengths, ropes, grapples, detonators. On one end, a small holoscreen on a dresser. Heels lined on its bottom. Across from that, a lounge chair sits by a boarded window, street lights peaking through.

This is where she sits, looking outside to the muddied streets. Her hand reaches behind, she flicks her wrist and a chair resting by the workbench covered in tools moves to the rooms center. Relena sits.

“I should kill you,” Lumina says, closing the door. It locks. “I killed Neri, blacked out when it happened though. I could do the same for you, it’d be easier.” She looks back, stands. “I was talking to the boys earlier. They say you’re nicer than he was. Better payment. Pensions. You actually give a fuck.”

“They were my friends before they were yours,” Relena says. “I’m not in the business to screw them over.”

“Aren’t I special then? Do you know what I love about Trandoshans?” Lumina asks. “You can cut off a limb and in a weeks time it’ll be like it never left. It’s a shame that’s not the case for humans. My father was a torso on stilts. Maybe if he grew back his legs he wouldn’t have done what he did.”

“Atikya—”

“I think we got off on the wrong foot Lena.” Lumina’s lightsaber ignites, red filling the room. “Why don’t we try an arm?”

“Ati, think about this.”

“I have. I’ve spent the past week as an Imperial hostage thinking about this.” Her saber swings out, inches away from Relena’s left. The heat and buzz warms her skin so she recoils. “Don’t worry. It’ll cauterize.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Relena says, a sheer layer of panic. “Anything you want. Name it. It’s yours.”

Lumina pulls back. She spins her hilt, pacing the room. “Anything?”

“Anything. What do you want? Money? A ship? One of the guys?” Her thumb juts behind to the door. “You wanna take Sully? Take ‘em. He’s yours.”

Her lightsaber powers off. “I don’t want Sully,” she says. “What I want, is for you to work that magic you have with N.R.”

“What does the Empire want with the New Republic?”

“Not the Empire. Me. Now I need you to listen very carefully. If I’m keeping you alive, you’re going to do exactly as I say. Understood?”

“Yes.” Relena nods.

“You’re going to contact that little journalist who discovered Corellia. Tell her, Red Axe has a new scoop. There’s a newly discovered base of operation on Arkanis. Underneath the old school. Tell her that you have evidence of children being held captive. Tortured. Whatever. Make it sound like hell. She thinks she’s a savior, she won’t be able to help herself. She’ll do all the investigating. After her story drops, you’re sending a message to Mon Mothma. I don’t care how. Point is, you let her know the Inquisitors aren’t dead. You give her this file.” Lumina throws a data stick to her lap.

“What is it?”

“A log of every surviving Inquisitor, save a few I have personal use for. It has everything anyone would need to know, including identification photos.”

“Including you?”

“I’m not an Inquisitor, don’t insult me.”

“You hate the New Republic,” Relena says. “Why give them this?”

“Because I don’t have enough time or resource to take care of it myself. I don’t know where they’re currently hiding, I don’t know if I will. What I do know is what they’ve done in the past, and what they will continue to do if they aren’t stopped. Inquisitors are the Empire’s first line of defense. Take them down, I only have have to deal with uninteresting, unassuming, and frankly below average men. That, I can handle alone.”

Relena spins the stick in her hand, passing it from one to another. “What do I get out of this?”

“Your arm. I didn’t come here to negotiate, I came here to tell you what to do.” Lumina takes a breath. “I know what you’re thinking. Ati, I can just go right back to the Empire. Tell them you’re doing this, I don’t have to listen to you. Wrong. You do. Because if you don’t, Sully calls the New Republic and they raid the compound, shut down the club. You get thrown in prison for the rest of your life, they get immunity for giving you up for Imperial conspiracy. They all have several copies of your dealings. You’ll be a forgotten embarrassment. The second leader to fail in less than a year. The choice is yours, what’s your legacy?”

“And when it’s done?”

“I leave you alone. We go our separate ways.”

Relena scoffs. “Don’t have much of a fucking choice, do I?”

Lumina pouts, bottom lip jutted out. “Did I? You were happy being Gideon’s lap dog, be happy you’re mine.”

Relena frowns, her head shakes. “Gideon? As in Moff Gideon?”

“Obviously.”

“Why are you working for Gideon? I thought he was dead.”

“Lena don’t act stupid. Not now.”

“I’m not,” she defends.

“You have files on files of contracts and communications about me with the client,” Lumina snaps, hands turning to fists. “Do not sit there and tell me you thought Gideon was dead when he is the one receiving every goddamn piece of information about me. When he has been the one to steal and keep my child. Do not.”

“Atikya, I never spoke to Gideon,” Relena says. “He’s an obsessive cloner who nearly got fired from the ISB. Everyone knows that. Why would I hand you over to him?”

“That’s a great question. Why don’t you answer it?”

“I didn’t. I did what I did for you. Because you told me when we met that all you wanted was to go home to the Empire. When I was contacted by them, I took the shot. They knew you were here. They knew everything.”

“Like what?”

“They knew shit about you that no one else did.” Their eyes meet. “Your numbers. They wanted to know a million more things about you, and I told them you like clones to get them off your back. Then they send over a hundred thousand credits for you to go to a run down clone bar in Ord Mantell to have fun. Corellia happens, your work is all over the news. They call again. They say you can come back, they need you. A million credits. I say deal, they say it’ll be tripled if you can do something for them first. Prove your loyalty. Sure. I get a recording of your pretty ass in a ballgown, dancing with a Mandalorian in Canto Bight. The same Mando you bitched about for months. He has a kid, they need it. And what do you know, right when I’m about to say you have no contact with that rust bucket, you actually cry over him like he meant something. I get a ping. He’s in Trask, with your card. I tell them, and they say all you have to do is go to Arkanis, keep me updated. They’ll handle the rest. And they did. Gideon was not once a part of anything.”

“Then who was?” Lumina asks. “If Gideon didn’t ask for me, who?”

There’s a stupid smirk on Relena’s freckled face, she shrugs. “You don’t even know who the fuck you’re fighting. You’re a little kid playing dress up in a grown up world.”

Lumina’s lightsaber ignites again. Without thought it presses against Relena’s arm. Screams don’t phase. It turns off. “Who?”

“I only met her once,” Relena gasps, skin charred. “You’re a fucking psycho—“

“Want more? Talk.”

“Shit,” Relena mutters. “I don’t know. It was dark, we were in the club. She was tall, my height. Thin. Whitest bitch I’ve ever seen. Looked like a goddamn ghost.“

Lumina laughs, actually laughs deep in her chest. She looks at the ceiling, her hands clap around her hilt. “We’re done here,” she says. “Get that stick to the N.R.”

“You fucked up my arm,” Relena says. “Do you know how much bacta it’s gonna take to heal this?”

Lumina quirks a brow, her saber turns on again. It spins. “Don’t worry,” she says. “Bacta won’t help you.”

---

Din can’t understand how she spent every day on the Slave I. It’s uncomfortable, empty. Decidedly not the Razor Crest. Back where it began, he’s trapped inside the ship, watching Boba and Fennec speak amongst themselves. Only now with company. Cara—Marshal Dune, and Migs Mayfeld. The joy he is. Travel to Morak was simple enough, if not for the incessant need for Din to bash his own head in.

“I figured you didn’t want to talk about it, all things considered,” Cara whispers, leaning over. She’s been good about leaving him alone, but all good things must come to an end. ”But why isn’t your girlfriend here? If anyone can get us Imperial coordinates it should be her. Would’ve saved me the trouble too.”

Din’s sigh is exasperated, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Doesn’t matter.”

Cara turns to him, her arms cross and her face etches in a concern he’s never seen. “Did she not make it? After what happened, Karga and I— we didn’t think that it was that serious.”

“No. Just… went back to work.” His weight shifts. “They needed her.”

“Red Axe?”

“Yeah.”

“Does she know what happened to you?”

“She’s got her hands tied,” Din says. “Don’t wanna worry her.”

“That’s a shame. If she were here, we could’ve left the comedian behind.”

“Are you guys talkin’ bout me?” Mayfeld perks up, lazily slumped across the way. “Cause it feels like you guys are talking about me. And if that’s the case,” he says, standing, “I wanna hear it.”

“Can we at least try to call up your girl?” Cara asks, rolling her eyes. “I don’t think I can stand Sergeant Scrapper much longer.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Mayfeld says on defense, waving his hands. “Did I hear that right?” He laughs, walking towards them. “You got a girl Mando? Boy, what kinda misfortuned broad did you have to trick into lovin’ that metal mug?”

“I don’t have time for this,” Din says.

“I’m only saying. X’ian, now that mess I could picture. You both got that radically insane schtick. But a real girl? She’s gotta be the most horrendous—“

“Hey genius,” Fennec interrupts. “His girl?” She nods to Din, then Boba. “His kid.”

“And I bet she’s beautiful,” Mayfeld says, full of teeth. “Just gorgeous. I’m jealous, I really am. You’ve got a whole Mando family,” he chuckles, hand to heart. “That’s just—that’s great, really it is. Can’t wait to see the little ones runnin’ round. Well, I guess not see.” He waves over his face. ”Am I right?”

“Someone shut it up,” Boba says.

“No, no. I’m happy for you big guy,” he tells Din. “Clearly you and dad get along, good to keep the in-laws happy. I bet she’s a real piece too. Gotta be if she’s keeping you satiated.”

In a second he stares down the barrel of Boba’s blaster, aimed between his eyes. “Last warning.”

“Yes Sir,” Mayfeld coughs. “Shutting up.”

“She’s his kid?” Cara whispers.

“Something like that,” Din mutters.

“They’re refining rhydonium,” Boba says, holstering his gun. He points around a holographic scan of Morak’s facility, speaking more to Fennec than anyone else. “Highly volatile and explosive.”

“They have anti-aircraft cannons protecting it,” she responds.

“And a platoon of security forces.”

“So we go in quiet,” Din says. “In and out.”

“I don’t know how you people wear those things,” Mayfeld says. Uneven terrain shakes them within the transport. Din wants to crawl out of his skin, trooper garb scratching and set-in sweat causing a stench. “And by you people, I do mean Mandalorians.”

It’s a shit plan. Sneaking into the rhydonium facility, disguised as Imperials. But somehow, it’s working. Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight. Boba might have a point. Unfortunately.

“The missus wear her’s all the time?” Mayfeld asks. He snorts. “Sure gotta make things interesting. Me? Never been the type, too much work. More of a one nighter, you know? In ’n out, onto the next. Long term… Girlfriend? Nah… you know, with these guys,” he motions around the vehicle, “they grill into you that it’s a betrayal. Can you believe that? A betrayal.” His head shakes, amused. “Can’t love nothin’ but the Empire. Fuck all you want sure, but love?” He whistles. “Forget about it.”

“Juggernaut Four,” comes through the radio. “You’re running hot. Be sure to watch your cargo heat limits and speed.”

“Copy that, Three. We hit a couple bumps. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Don’t worry about the rhydonium,” Din mutters, hands as fists. “As long as you drive steady, you’ll get us to the refinery.”

The drive through a village, if that. Children run from the open road, their half deflated ball is almost left behind. They all stare at the transport. Din stares back.

“Yeah. Empire, New Republic,” Mayfeld says. “It’s all the same to these people. Invaders on their land is all we are.”

“We’re all lazy slobs to them,” Din hears her say. “They don’t care about people, they care about being right.”

He may need another drink.

“I’m just sayin’,” Mayfeld goes on. “Somewhere someone in this galaxy is ruling and others are being ruled. I mean, look at your race. Do you think all those people that died in wars fought by Mandalorians actually had a choice?” With no answer he asks, “So how are they any different than the Empire?” He scoffs. “If you were born on Mandalore, you believe one thing, if you’re born on Alderaan, you believe somethin’ else. But guess what? Neither one of ’em exist anymore.”

Right.

“Hey, I’m just a realist,” he says. “I’m a survivor, just like you.”

It shouldn’t strike a cord. Not if Din knows who he is. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he says. “You and I are nothing alike.”

“I don’t know. Seems to me like your rules start to change when you get desperate. I mean, look at ya. You said you couldn’t take your helmet off, and now you got a stormtrooper one on, so what’s the rule? Is it that you can’t take off your Mando helmet, or you can’t show your face? ‘Cause there is a difference.” He looks over. “Your girl ever take off her helmet? You ever even see her?”

It’d be easier not to answer. To correct or deny. But he can’t. “No.”

Mayfeld at least, finds the humor. “I guess that’s how you know it’s real love, huh? Neither of you know who the fuck the other is and you still care bout each other. Secrets be damned.” Dirt road shifts them. “So, holier than thou. Seeing as you’re so particular on moral standings. She a good person? I mean, her dad seems like a piece of work, can’t imagine Life Day is any fun with that guy round. But she good?” He looks over again. “With your kid an’ all that?”

Din stares out the window, avoidant. “Kid loves her,” he mutters. Then, he takes a pause. “She’d do anything for him.”

“So how come she ain’t helpin’ out? What the old man could spare his time and not her?”

Knuckles rap against the door. He sighs. “They took her too.”

“What?”

“Gideon. When he grabbed the kid. He grabbed her too.”

Mayfeld looks the most human he has since pickup. “What’s she got that he wants?”

His mouth goes dry. “I don’t know. Pissed him off.”

“Why?”

Din shrugs. “Pissed her off first.”

“Yeah…” Mayfeld says, nodding. “We’re all the same. Everybody’s got their lines they don’t cross until things get messy. As far as I’m concerned, if you can make it through your day and still sleep at night, you’re doin’ better than most.”

Din thinks to ask more.

He resolves against it.

“…Where you from, Brown Eyes?”

It should impress Din that his list of regrets has grown substantially in the past week, yet here he is. In a failed disguised as an Imperial operative, his face shown to everyone within a thirty foot radius. Sat at a table for a drink with a general of the Imperial Army. His foot bounces under the table, looking like a kybuck in headlights.

“How ’bout a toast to Operation Cinder?” Mayfeld interjects. Not that Din would’ve said anything anyways.

They go on about Burnin Konn, some battle he’s never heard of. He thinks he should, though with his track record knowledge of Operation Cinder at all is considered a feat. Ten thousand people dead, killed with no remorse.

Mayfeld is emotional, Din can see it in his jaw. He’s letting things get personal and he shouldn’t. This is a job, a not so simple extraction, they can’t afford emotion.

“All heroes of the Empire,” General Hess says. He wears a bastardized grin, sick with pride. He believes it too. Everything done, everything that is yet to be done, all for the best. For the Empire. For order.

Lumina, he knows, would fair better here. She could talk politics and strategy, every single lie in her deck of cards ready for play. Brainwashing, that’s what she called it. From Mayfeld’s description on the transport, it seems to be universal. He wonders if they’ve met, her and the general. Or if he’s heard of her, from her, at all.

The headaches come back, he wishes to forget it all.

Mayfeld’s starting an argument. He should say something, change topics, leave. He can’t.

“All those people, the ones who died, was it good for them? Hmm? Their families? The guys I served with? Civilians, those poor mud scuffers, died defendin’ their homes, fighting for freedom. Was it good for ’em?”

“But we’ve outlasted them, son. They’re eatin’ themselves alive. The New Republic is in complete disarray, and we grow stronger. Hell, with what Moff Gideon’s got cookin’ up, they won’t stand a fucking chance.”

It wouldn’t be hard, Din decides, to hurt him. He wants to. Hell, he wants to do far worse than that.

“And with the rhydonium you’ve delivered,” he goes on to say. “We can create havoc that’s gonna make Burnin Konn just pale by comparison. And then they’re gonna turn to us once again. You see, boys, everybody thinks they want freedom, but what they really want is order. And when they realize that, they’re gonna welcome us back with open arms.” He raises his glass. “Ah. To the Empire.”

---

“Cheers,” Lumina says. Stolen shot glasses clink together, she downs liquor without so much of a flinch. She drops into the co-pilot chair, releasing her hair from it’s tight up-do. Her head drops back, eyes closing. Hyperspace rumbles around, the smaller ship overtaken in blue.

“You have blood on your foot,” Ghost says.

“It’s not mine,” she mutters.

“Did you kill her?”

“No.” She sighs. “Lena did me a favor. Don’t think I would’ve found a way back without her. I don’t know if I would’ve left that place at all.”

“I can’t believe you used to work there. It’s disgusting.”

She shrugs. “Welcome to Coruscant.” Lumina places the glass on the console, sitting up. “Your skills are impressive. I remember when duplicating rats was a challenge for you.”

“I’ve had time to practice.”

“Can I see her again?” Lumina asks. “The me you created. It looked accurate but—”

“You like looking at yourself,” Ghost teases. “I would too.” Her chair turns, hands waving in the open space. Lumina’s figure appears, two feet away. It stands mindless, dressed how she was found, only clean, tank top without blood. “I like you better with the lenses,” Ghost says. “Brown makes you look normal.”

“Do I not?” Lumina asks, standing. “Look normal, that is.”

“Not according to Pershing.”

Lumina circles her ghost, stolen stares marking it up and down. “Why?”

“He thinks you’re too pretty. He told Gideon that it’s unsettling.”

“I’m unsettling?” Lumina repeats.

“Something tells me Pershing has a lot of lonely nights. You make him nervous.”

“Good.” She looks over. “Do I make you nervous?”

Ghost snorts. “You’re not my type.”

“No, Gideon is,” Lumina says. She recognizes defense mechanisms, the posture, the hands, the jaw. All tightening. “Don’t be coy. I see the way you are with him. The way you touch him, how you speak. How he looks at you.”

Maybe Ghost doesn’t intend to snap, but she does. “And how is that?”

Lumina shrugs. “You mean something to him. By the looks of it, he means something to you too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I don’t know if it’s love. I don’t know if either of you are capable of that.” She turns back to herself, speaking into dull eyes. “But it is something. He’s protective over you. You’re sweet on him. It’s not for nothing.”

Ghost, she realizes, turns to insults when in a corner. “Just because you lost your boyfriend—”

“I didn’t lose him,” Lumina interrupts. She doesn’t sound like herself. More of the her that used to be before him. Like nothing. “I got rid of him. It wasn’t his choice, it was mine. I probed his mind,” she says. “I made him believe he hated me so he would move on. Forget everything that happened. It was the only way he would let me go with Gideon without getting himself killed.”

“And it worked?”

“I’m here aren’t I?”

“Did he actually care about you? I mean, genuinely love you?”

Lumina nods. “I believe so.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Mind probes don’t last forever,” Ghost says. “They only work until the probed mind is met with conflicting beliefs. You tell someone the sky is yellow, they’ll believe it until they see it blue. I only wonder… well, you tell a man who says he loves you, that he doesn’t. If he’s convinced to hate you,” she says. “The belief that he really loves you should be there regardless. The probe shouldn’t take.”

Her chair turns back to the front, adjusting micro mechanics. “If he’s so easily convinced that you mean nothing to him, I wonder if he ever loved you to begin with. You don’t have to worry about me and Gideon, it’s physical, that’s it.”

Lumina nods.

Ghost waves to the phantom. “Did she pass your test?”

Her eyes refocus, a hand passes through it’s core, waved back and forth. “I thought you could make it physical.”

“Takes more energy, but it’s possible.”

“Move her hair to the front,” Lumina instructs, circling again. The image does so, quickly returning to stasis.

Lumina stands behind it, lost. Her eyes burn holes into its skin, its right shoulder. Clean. Perfect, without any scar. She feels a twitch in her own. “It’s perfect. You’d fool anyone.”

“Even your boyfriend?”

“Especially him.”

---

“Moff Gideon. You have something I want,” says the Mandalorian. Hologram flickered in the lightcruiser’s bridge. “You may think you have some idea what you are in possession of, but you do not. Soon, he will be back with me. He means more to me than you will ever know.”

“You should have killed him,” Moff Gideon says.

Ghost responds, “I told you.”

“How long do you give it?”

“Day or two at most. If he got a holo here, he can track us from anywhere. Better to stay put, prepare.”

“She’s not ready.”

“She will be.” Ghost ignores his stare. “You have her kid, she’ll do whatever you want.”

“It’s interesting,” Gideon muses. “The Mandalorian gave no mention of her. Only the Child.”

“At least we know where priorities are.”

“Should she be brought in to see this? The revelation could assist in her attitude.”

“That’s not necessary,” Ghost says. “Something tells me she got the message loud and clear.”

The red fabric from Lumina’s arm ties over her eyes, knot digging into her skull. The ground feels the same as it did on Mustafar, cold, electric. Her palm, faced down grips at the smooth linoleum. A burst of energy fills her, robotic movements incased in the room.

She hears Boba in her ear as she clutches the vibroblade. He tells her he should have known she’d prefer a blade. Of course the use of a blasters wouldn’t come naturally.

“There are parts of you that don’t depend on the Force,” he told her. “Use it, ignore everything else.”

There are ten droids. Three directly in front, four on each side, three behind. Doctor Pershing stands at his computer, manning the timer, without the wires he is only an observer. He argued against her, saying it was too much of a risk. To practice while the dark troopers stood at full activation. In compromise, he holds the kill switch in a shaky grip.

Lumina senses the moment the stopwatch goes off, milliseconds flying by. She should have known what the prototypes she fought against on Mustafar would come to. That the advancements from the trainers on Kamino would have some purpose.

The Machine always said when she was ready she would practice on real men. With hearts and blood and bone.

They were never a greater threat than droids. Men have limitations, they have fear. The droids… they may have been created in Vaders image. As tall as he was, with the same shining black exterior. They don’t require thought and have no qualms of suffering.

They are designed to assassinate and rest until needed again.

This is why she destroys them so easily. They are jumbles of wire and gear and rod.

They are not alive to begin with and she has been told time and time again mechanics are no match to the Force.

They are no match for her.

The vibrations of the knife in her hand send tingles into her muscles, stimulating them. They shoot at her all at once, and she leaps over the nearest, slicing it’s forearms.

She can feel every movement before it’s made. Gears turning inside, metal joints shifting in step, integrated blasters preparing to fire.

The next three are simple. Her speed quickens, dancing on air. Chest. Abdomen. Neck.

Electric bolts have no time to consider singeing her hair or electrifying her shoulder. She kicks the head of one off and uses its body to launch herself to another.

Platforms of their exterior are her catapults into the air. The aid of the Force is minimal but necessary. With it, both now and then, only at seventeen, she is stronger than grown men. Faster.

They are no match for her.

The tenth droids falls to the ground, cut wire sizzling, a light smoke exiting. Just as it had, then and now.

Lumina stands in the middle of the room, she pushes the band up her forehead. She pants, looking at the mess of droids, half expecting to see him. The knife inches from his helmet. The eleventh machine she could never conquer.

He isn’t. And the vibroblade remains in her hand, buzzing. She shakes, filled with a rage she hasn’t felt in years.

Doctor Pershing turns the screen to her, showing the time.

Fifteen seconds.

It shatters.

---

“Mando,” Cara calls for him, waving from her seat in the Slave I. He trudges over, relishing in the missed comfort of beskar. “You might wanna call your girl.”

He should tell her, it isn’t fair for Cara to be the only one operating without the truth. And he would, were it not their competing histories. None of this would work if she knew the truth.

So he swallows his words, takes up his usual arrogance. “What?”

She raises her wrist, New Republic certified communicator stupid and shiny. “Word came in from Coruscant. It’s bad.”

He reminds himself she isn’t there. She can’t be, there’s no reason to be. He can’t worry, he can’t even acknowledge the worry.

Lumina is fine.

Even if she isn’t. He can’t care.

“Show me,” he says.

A hologram of an official, sealed by the New Republic faces him.

“A being identified as Relena O’Menfe, leader of the Coruscant’s underworld Red Axe Syndicate found dead. O’Menfe’s body appeared outside Club Kasakar with several lacerations to both head and body, making her unrecognizable. O’Menfe was only able to be identified through reverse blood print analysis found in the New Republic registry. It is currently unknown who or what could have done such a thing. All surrounding CCTV cameras were mysteriously deactivated during the time of attack…”

---

Next: The Repetition of Poetry

Taglist: @lexloon @jay-bel @xsadderdazeforeverx @spideysimpossiblegirl @sarahjkl82-blog @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @hello-th3r3

#din djarin x original character #din djarin x ofc #Din Djarin x oc #Din Djarin x Original Female Character #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #mando x ofc #Mando x oc #mando x original female character #mando x original character #Din Djarin fanfic #Starlight #LovelessDagger

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x-enchanted-effervescence-x · 8 months

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Gemstones For Libra

Amethyst

Amethyst is a highly mystical stone that encourages spirituality and spiritual insights. It heightens our sense of justice and encourages us to act from a place of deep integrity. Amethyst makes an extremely good meditation stone and can help to quiet the mind from distractions. It increases intuition and enhances psychic gifts, while ensuring that we remain logical and grounded. Amethyst provides the gift of emotional grace, helping us to balance out emotional highs and lows and stay steady and serene. It encourages us to abstain from overindulgence in all forms, including emotional indulgence. In particular, Amethyst helps us to stop wallowing in negative energies of our own making, especially ‘victim mentality.’ Amethyst helps us to identify the root causes behind behaviours and emotional patterns, and to have the courage to make the necessary changes. Amethyst is an excellent stone to have during times of grief and sadness, enabling us to come to terms with loss. Above all, Amethyst charges us to accept our Personal Power and live from a place of strength and peace. Amethyst encourages clarity, focus, and awareness. It helps us to take responsibility for our own actions and encourages us to overcome addictive behaviour and mental blocks. Amethyst is useful to have when debating, since it couples spiritual insights and inspiration with intellectual reasoning and logic. It continually reveals that the most “sensible” solution is also the one that serves the Highest Good for all. Amethyst is recommended when we are ready to make serious changes that affect our physical and mental health. It has been considered a stone for sobriety for thousands of years, making it a top choice for anyone going to rehab as well as for life after rehab. Amethyst helps us remember why we choose to be sober and why it’s not worth it to fall back into old habits. Amethyst is also recommended for insomniacs. It helps us to create a soothing environment and to follow smart bedtime rituals to help our body relax. Likewise, it reminds us to reduce stress and actively deal with problems in the daytime hours, so that we can rest at night. If the insomnia persists, Amethyst encourages us to speak to experts, be open to new ideas, and to be mentally kinder to ourselves in general. Amethyst is also an excellent talisman to help us relax and stay calm when we are experiencing physical pain or discomfort in the head, such as headaches and migraines or tinnitus, vertigo and other ear problems.

Bloodstone

Bloodstone is the stone of the Spiritual Warrior. It awakens us to our true spiritual calling and grounds that life in the material world. With Bloodstone we don’t just have spiritual ideals, we authentically live them. It helps us to trust ourselves to do what is right and to live with great integrity. Bloodstone asks us to be willing to pay the price to know Truth and to attain Freedom. It reminds us that while the path ahead may be fraught with difficulty and we may at times lose heart, we must go keeping going. In order to be victorious, we must fight for what is right even when it’s not fun or easy. Bloodstone helps us take one step and then another, and to trust that, in the end, all will be well. Bloodstone has a very calm and steady energy. It is a fantastic choice for anyone taking on a leadership role. It teaches us that a true leader leads from the front, is willing to make personal sacrifices and takes responsibility when things go wrong. Likewise, a true leader is kind (if not always nice!) and looks out for the wellbeing of others. Bloodstone soothes fear, irritability, aggressiveness, impatience, and loneliness. It encourages us to be more self-sufficient and independent, while also being willing to support and help others. Bloodstone gives us courage to face unpleasant situations boldly and is especially useful during times of crisis when quick and sensible action is needed. If we need to set our own emotions aside for a moment, Bloodstone can help us do that in a healthy way. When the moment passes, Bloodstone reminds us to tend to our own emotional needs and make sure we are healthy so we can confidentially tackle another day. Bloodstone celebrates loyalty and true friendship. It asks us to be the friend that other people need and to be the kind of person that other people can frankly admire. Bloodstone helps us to stay grounded, in control of ourselves and able to respond correctly to new and shifting situations. It is a fantastic stone for combatting the effects of PTSD. Bloodstone helps us figure out how to be the master of our thoughts and to stay in the present rather than being yanked into the past. It reminds us to be here now, fully in the present, and awake to its inherent possibilities. Bloodstone gently but firmly councils us that there is no shame in being traumatized. That the guilt for that pain belongs firmly on the shoulders of whatever created the trauma. But Bloodstone also reminds us that staying traumatized – if we have an opportunity to heal – is a choice. If we have been blessed with a chance to heal, we must be brave enough to go into the shadows of our mind, fight our inner demons, and return to the light victorious. Bloodstone is recommended for anyone who needs to manifest a warrior’s courage and determination in order to strengthen and heal the physical body. It encourages us to take our healing journey seriously and to be actively involved. It is especially good for people who tend to avoid doctors or gyms. Bloodstone helps us to be realistic about our body and its current and future needs, and to boldly do what needs to be done. It is an exceptionally good talisman for wounded warriors who suffer from PTSD, particularly men who might struggle to acknowledge mental healthcare needs. Bloodstone dismisses any sense of shame and instead pushes us to treat our body and mind with honour. Unsurprisingly, Bloodstone has long been associated with healing the circulatory system, heart and anything to do with blood.

Green Aventurine

Green Aventurine is a stone of freedom and good fortune. It is a brave companion that joins us in our quest to be free of anything that limits our joy and growth. It encourages us to live in full integrity where our “walk” matches our “talk.” Green Aventurine helps us to become fully present and alive in the NOW. It asks us to trust ourselves to handle the future as it comes and to let go of any regrets about the past that we can’t change in the present. When used in meditation, Green Aventurine’s present-focused energy can helps us to find and maintain the peacefully state of “no mind.” Green Aventurine is a lucky stone which attracts financial prosperity, good friends and happy encounters. Its friendly energy likewise attracts nature spirits, both in the wild and in gardens. Green Aventurine urges us to live from a heart-centered place and to be confident about the future. It is a stone of action yet also of patience, it helps us to channel our passions in constructive ways and to acknowledge incremental progress. It can help us calmly deal with difficult emotional situations and to make choices that will best serve ourselves and others. Green Aventurine combats depression, anxiety, and other negative emotions, replacing them with self-confidence and hope. There is a delightful lightness to Green Aventurine’s energy, helping us see the humor in any situation and to look on the bright side of life. It attracts true friends, comrades who can join us on life’s great journey. Green Aventurine provides us with the confidence we need to handle new situations, such as changing jobs, schools, or homes. It reminds us that we are fully capable of, and can be successful at, anything we put our minds to. It is particularly useful when dealing with changes due to aging, whether from child to adolescence and maturity, or becoming an elder. Green Aventurine helps us to see how each phase of life is beautiful and full of positive meanings. It encourages us to see life as an adventure and ourselves as pioneers. Green Aventurine also amplifies our leadership abilities and our ability to act decisively. Green Aventurine is recommended for infants, children, the elderly and anyone who is more physically fragile. If we have suffered from a minor injury, Green Aventurine gives us loving comfort, much like a kiss after a boo-boo. If we are faced with a major injury or illness, Green Aventurine gives us vast reserves of courage to face the challenge head-on. It is an excellent talisman to work with during rehab or when we are recovering our physical strength and vitality. Green Aventurine is also a powerful talisman for the physical heart.

Lemon Quartz

Also known as Oro Verde Quartz, lemon quartz is created by heating amethyst, yellow quartz and iron together at extremely high temperatures. This heating process is what gives lemon quartz its brilliant, yellow color. The radiant beauty of lemon quartz is truly dazzling, particularly when light catches the facets and it truly comes to life. Quartz is said to help structure, focus and amplify thoughts and information. It is also thought to transmit energy. Because the color yellow is associated with clarity, communication and happiness, lemon quartz is believed to help balance and strengthen these aspects. Used in meditation, lemon quartz is believed to filter out distractions, aid concentration and open memory. It is also believed to reduce anxiety, bring in money or assistance in times of need, and decrease negativity. Advocates recommend it be used with the third eye and crown chakras. For those who use crystals for healing, lemon quartz eases food and nicotine cravings, helps with diabetes and encourages healthy recovery after illness or surgery.

Tigers Eye

Gold Tiger’s Eye gives us the strength and courage necessary to survive hard times. It can help us to trust in the Divine, that all is working out according to plan. It can also help us trust ourselves – and to know we have the ability to solve our problems and make a success of ourselves! Gold Tiger’s Eye reminds us that, “God helps those, who help themselves.” This shimmering stone also whispers to us that how we live in our everyday lives is our true religion and the way we conduct the most mundane activities is an expression of our soul’s health and strength. Gold Tiger’s Eye gently but firmly dares us to live empowered and to be fully alive to the beauty of the present moment. Gold Tiger’s Eye brings gifts of confidence and self-awareness. It helps us to see and respectfully acknowledge our own wants and needs, as well as those of others. Gold Tiger’s Eye helps us to disassociate ourselves from negative people who sap our energy and to seek out friends who bring us joy and help us grow. It helps us balance out our own emotional highs and lows, finding instead a steady balance that feels good. Gold Tiger’s Eye can be a very helpful stone for group work and relationships, particularly when people have different viewpoints. This stone can help people to see their commonalities and to communicate more diplomatically. Gold Tiger’s Eye’s energy is exceptionally practical and full of common sense, and can help to calm down emotional excesses. It encourages good business and financial sense. When placed in a cash register, it helps keep the till balanced! Gold Tiger’s Eye is an excellent stone for anyone studying finances or seeking to increase their net-worth. It helps us to budget, save, and make wise decisions that take into account both our present and future needs and desires. Gold Tiger’s Eye encourages us to be pragmatic, prepared, and ready for whatever life may bring. And, if life brings hardship, Gold Tiger’s Eye asks us to fight back and do whatever is necessary to create a good life for ourselves, our loved ones, and the world at large. Gold Tiger’s Eye is used by metaphysical healers for general vitality and to reduce physical pain. It is commonly used to bring hormones and the body’s biochemistry into balance. It is often used to treat the adrenal glands and help align the spinal cord. It is believed to help mend broken bones and to treat reproductive disorders.

#me #mine #crystals #libra

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wroteclassicaly · 3 years

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May I Taste Your Sin

(Michael Langdon x Female Reader)

Pairings : Michael Langdon x Female Reader

Warnings : Language, smut, blood, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, blood play, & period sex.

A/N : This fic has been a loooong time coming! I’m sorry it’s taken me this long, but now that I have inspo I wanted get this out for y’all! The warnings are obviously self-explanatory, so skip this if you don’t like the contents it’s gonna contain! Michael Langdon eats human hearts, and he’s a demon, before anyone starts to fuss over this, lol. I’m sure menstrual cycles with his partner would be a dessert to him!

Enjoy! This one is pretty intense, so I’m nervous about it! I also have more installments with different characters coming in the next few days! :)

Check out where I first posted the teaser for this fic, and check out these period sex headcanons I wrote for Michael!

~*~

He keeps staring at you. You try to move about, do your tasks, even attempt conversation with people you’d tried so hard to avoid these past several years. Your abilities to function like the human being that you are, seemingly vanish whenever the tall honey blond is within your exhausted proximities. You aren’t sure if you’d like to let out the loudest echoing scream and see where it ends up in this place, or let your wildest carnal urges guide your hormones into a literal sticky situation. Or, at the very least, let yourself fantasize about seducing him in your own self-created version of reality.

You’ll have to settle on the latter, unfortunately. Pocketing the cream colored dish rag, you place the last row of finely printed novels on the book shelve. Your fingertips linger, attempting to find a portal through their leather cover tops. Your tongue slicks your parched lips, neck stretching to crack out the tension. You aren’t trying to do anything but stealing some relaxation, when a largely hot hand is pressing a knot-out in a knead on your shoulder - clasping, settling a risky purchase.

You don’t have to make an educated guess to know whose hand that belongs to. He practically spews out his control and ownership of this place every chance that he gets. Biting down a venomous sigh, you coerce yourself into a turn around - gathering an eyeful of Langdon’s fancy black vest. That’s not good enough for the King, apparently, as he fits his pointer finger underneath your chin in a tuck, thumb pressing against your jaw to tilt your gaze to his own.

“Did you forget your manners, Miss Y/L/N?”

The way his shining eyes are sizing your attention, captivating your unwillingness to comply to how Langdon makes you feel - it can’t be humanly possible, can it? There’s that possessive ache that begs you to launch ownership over him and his entire body. Why is everything so widely dramatic whenever he’s around? Is he just full of himself or is it something way more than you’re aware? A crackling parch winds its pathway around your throat, sealing your breath in.

Nothing comes from between your lips. You’re frozen solid, legs a weightless press. Each touch this... man brings upon your body is like a bass thump - pumping you towards his secretive rhythm. All you can do is sway with the beat. Langdon smirks coyly, his other hand resting behind his back in an idle grace.

Neither of you dare utter a word. However, Langdon is seemingly content in making you squirm and you try to focus on everything but his perfectly crafted jawline, and how eagerly you’d suck on it if asked. You swear you can hear your heartbeat galloping off, so strong that it can tear your heart right out of your chest along with it. His colorful eyes glance over you in a brief stamping sweep, lingering at your sore breasts and your waistline.

What is he even doing...?

“Excuse me, but Ms. Venable did not authorize any private conferences with the help.” A cold and steel - grasped voice chills your bones down, dusting your cheeks with a reddening humiliation.

You haven’t even so much as spoken to Langdon, yet it feels like you two have been clawing and scratching at each other all over this fucking outpost, riding one another until you can’t fathom walking upright. You still can’t speak, but Langdon takes care of that for you.

“Interesting, and did Ms. Venable give you permission to waltz in here when you weren’t requested or required, just to give a meaningless order?” Langdon is mildly amused in his question, his hand still paused on your chin, thumb now swiping in a tickling drop with his fingertip - along your jaw.

Ms. Mead looks comical in her brief attempt at forming a snappy comeback, only to go silent in defeat. You take this tension as your escape line - quickly edging from the sacred confines Langdon has built for you two, and you all but run out the door. You’re clutching your shirt collar, punching a two pounce path up the staircase and to the help’s quarters.

Chores now, panic later.

~*~

Five minutes. Five fucking minutes in this place that you’ve served without question, complaint, for nearly two years - is all you want. But as the heavy handed rasps of Mead’s knuckle bones beat on your bathroom door, you know that is a simple pipe dream. Her low voice is harsh with you, making your headache unfold into a full blown migraine. You shift uncomfortably, knees knocking together, thighs sore against the cool porcelain seat below you.

Langdon must’ve massively pissed her off... Good.

Your palms collect purchase to your cradle your face, your eyes glistening with tears, throat burning with frustration. It hurts too much to stand upright this time. Normally women would lose this in stressful situations. Add the apocalypse and barely eating, you’d peg it normal to receive nothing. However, your predicament is much worse, fucking you over once more.

Your body welcomes Mother Nature each month. Unpredictable, yet there. Heavy, excruciating. You could list on and on reasons that don’t amount to much. You’re stuck with a part of you that won’t ever come to fruition.

Not in your former life, especially not in this one. Another reminder that carries an award winning irony. Sighing, you peer down at the red dish rag you were given. Literally on the rag, what a joyous harmony. The elites of course, are given the tampons and pads.

You have to use scraps of fabric you’re forced to wash in the bathtub if you move too fast or sneeze. And on your heavy days when you haven’t the time to stop your duties to wash and air out the towels, things are much harder. At least before the apocalypse you had chocolate, feminine products, a warm shower to take your time in, movies to curl up with, and a place of your own to cry where no one could hear you. You sniffle, hormones locking down your heart.

Most recently the outpost had welcomed the cooperative leader Langdon. He had interviewed everyone but you, uninterested, only flustering you a few times. Him being here just makes your period a more unwelcome storm. This morning as you were passing him on the landing of the staircase, delivering the bath towels to elite rooms, he stared at you. Right into you, nostrils flaring, tongue rolling out to slick his plump lips, blue eyes darkening.

Then there was this afternoon. How could I forget...?

The encounters were over quicker than they took place. Still, his acknowledgment of you didn’t bring your interview, nor did it promise your application for the sanctuary he preaches about. Forcing your tears to bank, you stand with your dress skirt and apron held up, staring at the stained rag in your panties. You turn and flush the toilet, eating back around to the shock of your fucking life. There, just feet in the from the doorway, is Langdon in all his glory.

It makes you swallow harshly, stomach drawing off the butterflies that have grown claws. You feel winded. His ring covered fingers bring an object to your sights. A thinly wrapped stick. You don’t answer, you don’t move, you don’t protest him approaching until he’s directly in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You try, a mere whisper betraying your bravery.

“Helping you,” He answers simply, a heated slide crossing his mouth. You can practically taste him, damn near swaying forward.

You start to snap back into your senses, ready to cover your remembered modesty back up. He grasps your wrist, a hungry look soft in his features. “Will you let me?”

You’re shaking, body on fire at him touching you, you try to keep your legs from clenching, that want. You know what will occur if you let yourself. He is gentle with you, admiration clear. Why? You don’t understand this.

“You’re bleeding, I know.”

Jaw unhinged, you stand upright, his fingers still ghosting your skin. An unlucky movement on your part, the warmth spills from you and you look down between your thighs in horror at the red lines running down your legs, pattering against the floor. Langdon is breathing heavily, practically panting, stunning you once more. His other hand grips your cheek, thumb swiping your lip, eyes not breaking contact from yours.

“Do you know how good your cunt smells? Every pathetic person in this outpost is starving and you have the best meal between your fucking legs.”

When your silence stretches on, Michael nudges forward, careful with you. “May I feast?”

It’s all too much to handle. Having him talk to you, you speaking to him. And now this? How? You begin to grow dizzy, hands trembling as you try to pull your clothing back up. Langdon’s hands grip your wrists.

“Please don’t do that.”

You want to stun him incredulously, backhand him. None of that is happening, not even the urge. Instead, your want for him is magnifying beyond any feigned ignorance. Your tongue slides out across your lips, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a brisk chew. Langdon hooks his middle finger between your teeth, releasing your lip and combing the blood across in a coppery gloss.

Your chest is startled, rising and falling in quivering quakes, ears hearing a static rush. Everything inside of you is alive and crying out in need to be sated. Langdon grips you around the waist, lowering his forehead to rest atop your own, his middle finger - still doused in your blood - slithers past his own lips, which close in a sticky suckle. A vibrating moan pummels his throat, causing a constricting swallow that showcases his Adam’s apple.

If I could only just lick that...

Langdon is sly and devilishly cunning to a fault - fast in his next movements. He presses a designer boot down over your skirts, successfully preventing them from being made up. “Leave them here for someone else.”

“I... I can’t. This is too much, Langdon —“ He chuckles at the formality.

“Since I can see your womanhood running from between your legs, I suppose it’s only fair that we skip some formalities, don’t you agree, Y/N?” Your eyes are probably wider than necessary - a cartoon like sight. He’s used your full name in an authoritative command, leaving no room for question. “And you may call me Michael.”

It’s all a little more frantic from this point. He gives the slightest of information, and you see your skirts and panties gliding across the floor in a winded push. Michael brings that wrapped item back into your eye-line. “We won’t be needing this for a while.”

“I didn’t say yes.” You try, swallowing a weak, whimpering stifle.

“But you didn’t say no, did you?” That shit eating grin. He has you and he is all too aware - elated to the brimming brimstone of hellfire you’re about to bestow upon yourself.

Your insides melt into the trenches of red hot, raw ravishment. Michael drops his left arm down, hand palming his hardening cock through black slacks, eyes encouraging you in a chained bind. “Let’s go and make a mess in my room.”

Now or never. No more of this, back to reality, maybe some place better. You’re spinning in a foiling encasement, precipice wide and open - hungry to pull you under. And you dive in, you let it all go. Michael looks satisfied, sharing something with himself that you don’t know... yet.

Taking Michael Langdon’s hand, you’re led into the unknown.

~*~

Langdon leads you down his own separate corridor, your free hand scolded for trying to hold yourself over your uniform.

“I want you to make a mess.” Michael says.

You hope that you’re not the one who will be paying the cost for your own said mess, or cleaning it up. If it’s up to Venable - you’ll be licking it, all the way to her high heeled boots.

Once inside the confines of Michael Langdon’s bedroom, you take the time to look around, enjoying the perks this situation is bringing. The room isn’t any different than what the purple elites get here, it is bordering on a more... lived in feel, which is ironic when you consider that Langdon hasn’t been here like everyone else has for the past three years.

Guess he’s just more comfortable? He does look like an English vampire half the time..

On that note, a particularly harsh cramp antagonizes your uterus, causing you to clench your abdomen, choking out a acidic slice. “Fucking demonic cramps.”

Michael - now clad in his all black ensemble, minus the overcoat - chortles, knotting his fingers together behind his back and strolls forward, wetting his lips as the firelight crackles a sparking soundtrack. “It’s ironic how you refer to it as “demonic”, when Satan really has nothing to do with this. I mean, it’s not on him that humanity failed their pitiful guidelines for sobering temptation. Wasn’t it your lord and savior that bestowed this curse upon you?” He finishes, giving a head tilt to your unhinged stun.

“Are you religious?” Is all you can come up with.

Michael sneers, looking slightly offended. It fades seconds later. “Depends on your definition of religious, and then there is what one believes in. But I guess you can say that I’m devoted to... a certain cause.”

“Were you this mysterious before the apocalypse, or is that why the cooperative gave you the job?” You try, a discomfort crackling at your inner thighs.

They’re probably smeared... And not just with blood.

“I bet you’re uncomfortable.” Michael teases, snapping his fingers at the fireplace. Did your eyes betray you, or did the flames flicker?

You want to give a snappy comeback, but it feels unwise. You nod like the sap that you are, nails biting your palms. Your heartbeat has begun to accelerate, a visible sight beneath your apron. Langdon guides himself to step in front of you, leather shoes drumming across the floor beneath. Every sound in this forsaken room is flowing through your eardrums - Michael’s scent on the tip of your tongue.

You need him. More than your body has to have the air that filters underneath this mausoleum. You’re so unsteady, eyes brimming with the smoking arousal, blocking common sense. Michael catches you as you collide with his chest, wrapping your fists into his vest. His blue irises are disappearing to a canyon of night sky - lavish black so sinful that it steals the breath from your lungs.

Drizzling off your tongue is a hesitation. “Won’t we get into trouble...? Venable -“ Those rough fingertips hold a softness that hushes your lips, denting.

“Can watch me with my face buried into your cunt. The humiliation will arouse her.” Michael answers in his own finish.

You aren’t sure why, but that grates your mouth into a sneaky grin, shared with Michael’s, sensing that slapping throb at his phrases. He pinches your chin, nuzzling your head to the side, his lips sloping a map across your neck. His towering physique backs you by knocking his knees into your thighs, delivering you to the edge of his bed. You drop like wild weights, looking towards the ceiling, trying to take a deep inhalation. Langdon crouches, pants rustling as they tighten around his temptingly thick thighs.

He tuts in a scold, chiding you furthermore. “You will watch what I’m getting ready to do to you! Is that clear, Y/N?”

You don’t answer fast enough, Michael’s hand wrapping around your throat, eyes burning hellfire through you - dusting your bones to ash. Your throat is wet with the clingy, unshed tears. Fuck, you have to be filled up until you’re hollowed out. Michael is languid in grace, hand toppling into your lap, joining his other.

“Take down your hair, Y/N.”

Like a puppet, you obey your new owner. Unwrapping the pointed bun, you shake your locks free, sighing in an eased tickle.

“What a good and obedient girl that you are. Those who obey, shall reap the riches.”

“Why are you doing this?” An ignorant question on your part.

“Because,” As if it’s the most simple answer in this broken world, Michael let’s his hands start to unbutton his vest, carelessly sending it, his attention not wavering off you in the slightest. “I’m hungry.”

A literal moan comes from you, making Langdon hiss through his through his milky white teeth. He resumes his former position, hovering.

“Spread.” Michael says, a quaint wonder adorning him, his palms sliding up and down your legs to feel you part them. The blood is mixing some fucked out potion with your creamy arousal for him, and he knows it, has it right into your tremble from the exposure.

Your skin is steaming in scrapes, responding so vulgarly to Michael, that he is hooking his wrists under your knees, bouncing the flesh into his awaiting hands, and claiming. He hoists your legs over his shoulders to arch you to his idea of perfection. You should be protesting, in a shambled shyness. That is gone, no place here. Michael let’s his nose rest in the crease of your thigh, crudely sniffing like some beast.

His sopping tongue finds a striking stroke along your ruby red, damp thigh.

Closer... He’s getting closer...

When you can’t feel that warm and snide air he possesses, you lock to load a question. Michael is shedding himself of his remaining clothing in a cocky crawl. His hair curtains his face as he sees you seek out his cock - thick and heavy, weighted and wet with pre-cum.

“Finish taking off your clothing.” You’ve never done something so fast in your years alive.

You have to admit, being so vulnerable like this - naked and bleeding, it has you buzzing.

Michael outstretches a veined forearm, the back of his rings swirling in desiring dances across your breasts. “Do these hurt?”

Your lashes are slicked in perspiring tears, the tired soreness harassing your chest. He has his truth. His trim form bows to you once more, placing your legs back where they belong. He knuckles a pressing push into your abdomen. “Bear down.”

It isn’t an accident this time, it’s not a discreet secrecy. Michael wants you this way. All of you. Finding a confidence, you give yourself a high and sink your fingers into his hair, toes tickling his shoulder blades in a forwarding nudge, doubling down on your muscles. That warmth spills out of you and Langdon takes you, tongue parting your swollen folds. He regulates his tongue in wet paints, licking and sucking everything you give him.

“Please—“ You’re already begging. It’s so fucking intense and intimate that you can’t formulate your own damned name.

“Are you really going to ask, or would you just like to feel good?” Michael vibrates, his mouth visible and shining crimson as he seeks you out between your slippery thighs.

It’s outright feral. His irises are coal black, blue lost in some combing canyon that’s crumbled around sin. His digits prod at your sensitive opening, being accepted moments later. His lips close over your clit, tongue slithering back and forth to assist his beckoning fingers. He gathers more from you - his purpose.

That quenched fold starts to seize you early on, your pattering breaths signaling the orgasm that is about to tear the screams from your fucking diaphragm. Michael’s hand smacks and rolls your swollen breast - permission granted. That’s all it takes and you’re falling back onto the mattress, back arching in a lined drag, pussy flattening against his mouth. He jerks you impossibly closer, your vision whiting out into dark spots. You tangle your fingers further into his luscious strands, holding, pulling.

In the midst of close recovery, Michael is plowing you with a short lived let down, his mouth leaving your pussy. You can’t complain, no time available, as his hips slot in a frazzled fit between your legs. His pelvis is tense, sheathed in sweat. His chest smashes your breasts, his hand reaching down to guide his cock inside you. You can’t speak, but cling tightly to his back. He growls a sound that you’ll never forget, the fire bursting behind him, flames licking the rocked cove that houses them.

His mouth is covered in your essence, your cunt bathing his dick with each violent thrust. It’s pouring in drenches, salty perspiration, pooling blood - both of you losing yourselves in the mess. Michael props himself up, digging into a dipping slam, meeting your mouth in an ending kiss. His hair tickles your shoulders, nose nudges your now blood caked mouth, and he gives the warning.

“Spill your fucking curse all over me!” And you come undone, glued to him in puzzled entrapment.

Your thighs are wrecked, his bedsheets useless, and then there’s Michael, who forces you to look at him and really see him. There’s only black in his eyes. You sputter a disbelief, bracing. His mouth parts, tongue flicks across to gather more, leveling off into his jagged movements. He swells inside your cunt, dousing your walls in his warm cum.

He doesn’t leave you, not even when it’s over. He simply takes you with him. You aren’t sure where you get the courage to speak - body shaking and shivering.

“What... Michael, who are you?”

He cups a hand over your cunt, rolling onto his side, keeping you held to him. He lightly blows away a pesky lock of your hair, then maneuvers another behind your ear.

“I’m the man who’s going to save your wretched existence.”

Tag list : @littledemondani @dark-mei-rose @fckinsupreme @angelicmichael @icylangdon @ritualmichael @sojournmichael @celestialrequiem @instinctsxbaby @infernwetrust @ferndolan @9layerdevilfoodcake @bloodcoatedeclipse @wormycircumstance @antichristsxbox @xavierplympton @xavierplymptons @ramona-thorns @lovelylangdonx @langdxn @codyarchives @dailylangdon @codyfernuk @langdonsjoyy @7-wonders @blakescoven @holylangdon @bitchchatter @suspiriva @taskmastter @kitty4860 @ladynuwanda @langdonsexual @sammythankyou

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sempiternox · 3 years

Text

Random RE 8 Villain Headcanons

Lady Dimitrescu

is secretly a hardcore Brawlhalla player and Volkov/Diana main

if you’re anything less than upper class, she’ll treat you like dirt. However, if you know music theory and praise her for the vocal techniques she used in the songs she sung during her jazz singer days, she’ll be... slightly more inclined to converse with you

despite her anger issues, she would never hit her daughters

spent so much time abroad in the US touring with the Pallboys that she had a thick American accent when speaking her native Romanian for a few days after returning to Romania

in her mutated form, it takes her a lot of willpower to stay sane and not destroy and kill everything in her path (including her castle)

Bela

HATES it when people pronounce her name as “Bella”. It’s “BAY-lah”, you fuckn*ggets, not “BELL-ah”.

it takes a lot for her to lose her temper, but when she does snap, it’s not pretty.

often has migraine-like headaches due to her Cadou

can play bass guitar

she’s a bass.

Cassandra

lowkey into Bloodborne

is a master at mimicking animal sounds. Her favorite animals to mimic are wolves and owls

usually hunts animals like deer and rabbits, but will also kill wanderers who get lost in the woods when she’s bored

when hunting wanderers, she pretends to be a real vampire just to toy with them further.

enjoys jumpscaring Daniela

Daniela

gets scared very easily

sweet tooth™

the clumsiest of the Dimitrescu sisters

great drummer, but if you see her holding a banjo in her hands, COVER YOUR EARS AND RUN.

has a twisted view of love, believing she is so beautiful every man would fall for her ( ≈ love at first sight trope), and gets disappointed and angry when a man comes across Castle Dimitrescu and acts nothing like in Daniela’s romance novels. She usually ends up killing them in frustration and insists that they enjoyed “spending time with her” afterwards.

Donna

names every single doll she makes

keeps quiet when around people she doesn’t know or is uncomfortable with, but once she warms up to you, she WON’T. STOP. TALKING.

is great at doing voices

dabbles in all sorts of creative hobbies like filmmaking, drawing, writing, sculpting, photography etc.

enjoys watching horror movies

Angie

getting along with her is actually very simple: If you’re nice to Donna, Angie is nice to you. If you’re mean to Donna, well... good luck not dying.

always tries to cheer Donna up and make her happy

“Object permanence? Is that something you can eat?”

loves snow, especially when it’s nice and crunchy

bit Lady D in the ankle once because she insulted Donna

Moreau

actually kept most of his intelligence, but the Cadou messed up the parts of his brain that are linked to speech which caused him to lose quite a bit of his vocabulary. He always knows what he wants to say but has trouble making himself understood at times because of his childlike and slurred speech.

because of his condition, he uses medication and painkillers which, sadly, don’t always ease his pain

lost his mother (who happened to look similar to Miranda) as a child which is why he is so loyal to Miranda

wasn’t on good terms with his father

enjoys swimming in his mutated form

Heisenberg

taught himself English by watching old Hollywood movies

regularly buys conduits, metal components etc. from the Duke for his experiments

has an old laptop he stole from someone who got lost in the village

cat person. No, really. He likes cats because of their independence and IDGAF attitude.

has trouble relating to others but genuinely cares about Donna and Moreau

Miranda

is at least trilingual

likes listening to stoner metal and DSBM when no one is around

loves scaring people in her mutated form

doesn’t need to sleep due to her prolonged exposure to the mutamycete but still drinks gallons of coffee when conducting her experiments

has a hauntingly beautiful singing voice

#resident evil village #biohazard village #lady dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #donna beneviento #mother miranda #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #headcanons

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the-weirdos-mind · 3 years

Text

League of Villains X Teen! Reader: You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid

Songfic of the song with the same name by The Offspring. Here’s the reader’s quirk:

Quirk- Manipulation

Type- Emitter

How it works- Similar to Aizawa’s and Nighteye’s quirks you have to look someone in the eye to get them under control. They’re unaware that you’re controlling them but still aware of their senses. When you have someone under control you can do whatever you want with them until you either look away from that person (it doesn’t always have to be eye contact), blink, or release them. Whenever someone is under your spell, it’s like being trapped in a room with one-way glass. They are aware of what’s going on but, can’t get help.

Drawbacks- If you use the power for more than an hour you’ll get a headache. If you push yourself you’ll get a migraine. You can choose when to activate it and for how long but the time still adds to an hour no matter how many times you activate it in the day.

Trigger warnings: Blood and use of violence, if I’m missing anything then let me know so I can correct it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Show me how to lie You're getting better all the time And turning all against the one Is an art that's hard to teach

You followed Giran down the hallway to an unknown place. You had the hood of you (F/C) on to hide your (H/L) (H/C) hair with your eyes on the ground. You watched as foot after foot in (F/C) shoes put pressure on the dirty ground. You mentally sighed as you reflect your life choices. You didn’t want to live this life but everyone around you saw your quirk as one thing; villainous. You got tired of the words and became what they wanted you be. You realized that heroes are worthless and they didn’t care that a young (boy/girl/person) was heading down a dark path. You glanced up to see the man opening the door. You immediately looked down and followed him in the room.

Side glancing at the room you noticed it was a bar. There was a purple cloud like man with yellow eyes in a suit and a metal brace around his neck. He was polishing a glass behind the bar. On a red stool was another man holding a glass of alcohol. He had his pinky raised away from the glass though and you silently raised an eyebrow. Is this because of his quirk or is he British? His shaggy blue hair was covering most of his face but when he turned to face the two, you saw a pale hand covering his face and his red eyes glaring at you. You glanced down at the floor. Not yet.

“You seriously brought a child?” He asked setting the glass cup down. “You do know that this is for mature adults? And (she/he/they) can’t stare at me in the eyes? How rude.” His voice was raspy and you concluded he was holding the glass like that was because of his quirk.

“Shigaraki, this is (Y/N), I brought (him/her/them) cause (he/she/they) need some training with (his/her/their) quirk.” Giran said and took a drag from his cigarette. He exhaled and a smoke cloud came in the room. “(He/She/They) is getting better at it but, (he/she/they) still needs some help.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “At least I don’t treat kids like they’re nothing.” You mumbled still bitter about Shigaraki’s comment.

“What was that?” The blue haired man asked, dangerously.

“So, you’re deaf huh? I thought an excellent leader would treat a new recruit with respect no matter the age they are.”

Another clever word Sets off an unsuspecting herd And as you get back into line A mob jumps to their feet

“Shut up.” Shigaraki muttered and scratched his neck. He was stressed about the trouble this kid was causing. Sure he and Dabi didn’t get along but he liked being in control. “(He/She/They) is mature for (his/her/their) age.” Giran said. “Maybe with (him/her/them) as leader it won’t be bad.” He added. He knew what you were doing. If you get him mad enough to get him to look at you in the eye then you can show off your quirk. You did keep your mouth shut as the man stood up and walked over to you. You looked at him in the eye and a (F/C) hue came to your (E/C) eyes. His eyes begin to fog up a little, not enough to appear blind but enough to look suspicious.

Now dance, ****er, dance Man, he never had a chance And no one even knew It was really only you

Shigaraki barely saw the change of your eye color. He was so surprised to started dancing. His feet moved in a fast pace in place. “What the ****!?!” He yelled, only in his mind. Dabi started laughing again. The scarred man leaned over clutching his stomach. He’s laughing so hard he might start crying, or blood will fall from his destroyed tear ducts, if he’s not careful. After a few minutes of dancing you blinked to end the curse on him. They didn’t know that you caused it to happen. Giran smirked and patted you on the head. “What the h***?” The man asked looking around, wondering what just happened.

“That is (his/her/their) quirk at work.” He man said before the other could get angry. “With a power like (hers/his/theirs) would be useful for heist situations and causing diversions wouldn’t it?”

“What is (his/her/theirs) quirk?” The wisp man asked.

“Manipulation.” You said. “Whenever I look at someone in the eyes it activates my power. I can hold control of them for at least an hour before I get a headache. Best part is no one knows that they’re under my grasp.” You said.

“I’ll admit that I’m impressed.” Shigaraki said. “Welcome I guess.”

Giran smiled. “You won’t be disappointed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now you steal away Take him out today

After a few weeks of joining the League you’re on your first solo mission. Before this one you were mainly paired with a blonde haired girl named Toga. She was pretty nice when she wasn’t obsessing over blood or trying to stab you. Other times you were paired with a man named Twice. He would say two different things and it would give you mixed feelings about a job well done.

You walked through the area of the city to a hero agency. Your job is to find maps of the inside and steal them. Shigaraki didn’t care if they were on paper or not all he cared about was getting them, It’s pretty simple to do but considering this is you, you had a knife and a handheld gun just in case if things went south. So far it was going well. You got a security guard under control and using him you were able to get a computer with the building’s layout on it. Pulling out a flash drive that Compress had given you, you stuck it in the computer and start downloading. Unfortunately, you looked away from the guard and he glared at you.

“I don’t know your plan here kid, but it’s best if you leave now.” He said. He did try to alert someone but it was useless, he was trapped in his mind until you looked away. You looked at him and put your hand in your pocket with the knife.

“I don’t think so.” You said. Before he could call for backup you pulled the knife out and threw it at his chest. He gasped at the impact of the knife and slumped to the floor. Blood was falling from the wound fast, staining his shirt and forming a puddle. Thankfully there was a ding as the data had finished uploading to the flash drive. You walked over to the computer and pulled it out. You smirked as you pocketed it and pulled the knife out from the guard. You left the building leaving behind a guard slowly bleeding to death.

Nice work you did You're gonna go far, kid

You walked back into the hideout and put the flash drive on the bar next to Shigaraki. He nodded at you when he saw it. “Good job. A win for us.” He said and carefully pocketed the piece of tech.

“And in an hour too.” Spinner said.

“That’s really impressive!” Twice said. “It’s not that impressive.”

You feel a hand clamp on your head and ruffle your hair. “Not bad, kid.” Dabi said. He could tell you’re gonna go far in the villain industry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a thousand lies And a good disguise Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes

You had gotten in the school with one of the best lies you have, your parents went there. It wasn’t U.A. but it’s also training people for the hero industry. The plan was to get the best marks in the school and transfer to U.A. as the highest in your class. Giran came into play for making fake documents that pass off as real.

The one on one fight that took place with some kid you didn’t even bother to know was annoying. His quirk was something water related and you almost drowned a couple of times. You finally looked at him in the eye and ordered him to stop. You ran up to him and punched his face, in the between the eyes a couple of times. The first one stun him while the other knocked him out.

When you walk away Nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives

You panted and wiped the sweat away from your forehead. You walked away from the ring where the training took place and looked at everyone else. They looked away from you in fear and parted like a body of water. You swore you saw someone running for their life. You smirked to yourself and took your seat on the bleachers. Pride danced in your eyes like lightning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slowly out of line And drifting closer in your sights So play it out I'm wide awake It's a scene about me

The first thing the infamous Class 1-A noticed about you is how secretive you were. You shared nothing about yourself other than your name and quirk. They noticed that you did some… shady things to put it mildly. Some noticed you snuck out of the dorms at night. Idia, Miydoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki had followed you to an alleyway and heard you talking to some shadowy figure there. Both spoke in soft whispers that they couldn’t tell who you were talking to and whether or not they were male or female. Other than that occurrence, they didn’t get anything else.

About a week later, the League attacked UA. You had managed to get them in through your student ID and gave them full access to the school, by a really good copy of the little plastic card. Five minutes prior to the attack, you had excused yourself from math, who needs it anyways, and went to the bathroom. While the lockdown was going on, you met with Toga in the halls. The plan was to get to All Might and kill him, the typical plan made by the man child of a leader you have. You both heard footsteps running towards you and saw it was the class president, Iida. “(L/N), get away from her!” He yelled, doing his hand chop thing. You smirked and took out the dagger the blonde handed you. “No, I don’t think I will.” You responded. Time to shine.

There's something in your way And now someone is gonna pay And if you can't get what you want, Well, it's all because of me

He stood there, shell shocked at the sight before him. His classmate was a villain? You couldn’t use your quirk yet, anyways. You decided to let the scene play out. You let a dark chuckle seeing his face. “All my life I’ve been told that I was best suited for a villain. You know, you could’ve used the time you knew me to get to know me but, everyone treated me the same as before! It’s too bad that things had to end like this. Wait, no it’s not that bad. You and your class are gonna pay!” You yelled. You lunged at him and he dodged as he snapped out of his shocked state.

“(Y/N), it doesn’t have to be this way!” He said and continued to dodge the blade. He was still surprised and didn’t attempt to fight back because he couldn’t believe the suspicions about you were true. You growled in frustration. “It’s too late for me anyways. You can’t turn me to the light.” You said and looked at him in the eyes and yours started glowing (F/C). He almost let out a gasp but it didn’t leave his body as his eyes fogged up a little.

Now dance, ****er, dance, man, I never had a chance And no one even knew, it was really only you And now you'll lead the way

You smiled as the class representative had fallen for your trick. “Now, we’re going back to the class, and you’re going to act like everything is alright.” You ordered.

He nodded. “Yes, (Sir/Ma’am/Other).” He said, voice coming out robotically. He set off to find his class and you followed him, due to your power. The irony of the situation was almost amusing to you. Almost. The head of the class, now a puppet. A puppet that can dance to whatever twisted moves that you have set for it.

Show the light of day Nice work you did You're gonna go far, kid Trust deceived

You followed him down the twisting paths of the hallways to the rest of the class. Your gaze fixed on the back of his head. You knew Toga was going to inform everyone else that everything was according to plan. Finally, the two of you reached the hiding area where everyone else was. “Thank goodness you found, (him/her/them!)” You heard Izuku said. Then he noticed that something was off about his classmates. You were refusing to look at anybody else than the boy in front of you and Iida’s looked dazed. Like he was… under someone’s control.

The greenette’s eyes widened. His classmate was… no. He had his suspicions but the truth is hard to handle. Before he could say anything, Iida gave him a swift kick in the face.

With a thousand lies and a good disguise Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes

They stood there in surprise and shock. A blanket of fear had covered them, making them stand there like statues. The only sounds were the groans of Miydoriya and the thud of his body hitting the ground. “I-Iida.” Ochaco stuttered in fear. No one had expected the class president to attack their classmate outside of training. The blue haired boy then hit the nearest person, Mineta, giving him a punch to the cheek. No one really reacted to that. In all honesty, the grape had it coming.

When you walk away, nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives

While they were distracted, you used the opportunity to leave. It didn’t matter if Iida was going to spill the secret you kept from them. That s*** was already out. You smirked to yourself knowing which side of the street you belong in.

Now dance, ****er, dance, he never had a chance And no one even knew, it was really only you So dance, ****er, dance, I never had a chance It was really only you

The mission went out as planned. It was only a ploy to strike fear in the hearts of citizens. After all, an attack with no causalities is far worse with ones that do. You now sat at the bar, a bottle of water in your hand. You may be a criminal but the age of drinking consent is something that you can’t argue with. No matter how hard you tried. The news was on talking about the event. Everyone was able to get away without anyone being caught. Call it luck or whatever but, you’re thankful that they did. The anchorwoman was talking about how a student was involved with the League and helped out. A picture of your face appeared on the screen and you smirked. It wasn’t a school photo but a mugshot from a previous capture. One you managed to get away from. No one even suspected you, or so you think, but regardless it’s wonderful to see.

With a thousand lies and a good disguise Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes

You couldn’t help but chuckled remembering the looks on each of their faces. What they thought was a classmate was really playing a part. A perfect disguise if you asked yourself. You have the innocent looking (boy/girl/person) appearance and if anyone who didn’t know you found out about your job. It would’ve made you laugh as not everything is as it seems.

Your fists tingled as they remembered the feeling of their face contacting your skin. You placed the hand that held the plastic bottle on top of the other’s knuckles. The feeling is something you’re going to remember for a long time.

When you walk away, nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives

A pair of footsteps came walking in and you dropped your hands to your lap. You see Shigaraki walking into the bar holding a folder, with a finger away from it as always. You know it could only mean one thing. “Another mission?” You asked, voicing your thoughts. The boss nodded and handed it to you.

“Go over it and be ready for when the time comes. You did good on your last mission, keep up the good work. You’re a valuable character.” He said before walking away. You weren’t sure if the last sentence was a praise or another video game term but regardless you nodded.

“Will do.” You said and opened it up, wondering what will be to cause more fear in the people. And more pride in yourself. Each success makes you happy.

Clever alibis, Lord of the Flies Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes

You almost busted out laughing seeing which role you were supposed to play. An innocent citizen who loves all the hero crap. You won’t be alone this time, having Toga to accompany you on this one. You felt excited for the mission. It would mean more people will realize what idiots heroes truly are. The truth will knock them down from the clouds.

When you walk away, nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives

But right now, it’s time for a nap. The last mission tired you out. You took the folder with you and walked to your room. All that matters right now is a bed, a blanket, and wonderful dreams of a world where people run in fear from you.

241 notes · View notes

starlit-scarlet · 3 years

Text

Stress

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

This is a somewhat self-indulgent fic I decided to write this morning. Levi gets to comfort reader who's stressed out from school and an internship. Always such fun :) haha

Another long day of school, followed by hours at your internship where you got the thrill of doing all the work and reaping none of the benefits, and you finally staggered into your home, the sun having set below the horizon hours ago. Shutting the door closed behind you— metaphorically shutting away the day— you pressed your back against the door, eyes fluttering shut as you desperately tried to will away the migraine you could feel coming on at the base of your skull.

Fuck, could this day get any worse?

Tears pricked at the back of your eyelids, long having since wondered if any of this was even worth it at this point. Half the time you thought you’d made the wrong choices, picked the wrong path, yet here you were, continuing to truck along, because that was what you were supposed to do. Without having realized, the purse you’d been holding had slipped from your hand to land with a gentle thump on the floor.

The memory of the day flickered across your mind, remembering all the ways you’d apparently screwed up, your asshole of a supervisor never hesitating to remind you of that. Yet she always seemed to forget the way you made sure her files were always neatly organized in the proper drawers, the way you were always on time, never late, always willing to stay late when she needed you. The way your notes were careful and methodical, documenting as much of her time spent with clients as possible.

No. None of that she gave a shit about. She simply seemed hell-bent on pointing out each and every blunder you made.

‘You fucked up big time with that client. How you've gotten this far in your career and education, I haven't a clue. Go get me some coffee. Maybe that, you won’t screw up.’

It wasn’t that you minded criticism. No. You welcomed it. But there was a difference between constructive criticism meant to help you improve, and criticism meant to tear you down.

And you were doing all of this for an overpriced piece of paper that you weren’t even sure was worth it anymore.

Is this something I even want to do anymore?

Sighing, you pushed yourself off the door, wincing at the pull of your back. Sitting all day with shitty posture put a strain on your back, and it had you rubbing at the muscles as you made your way into your tiny kitchen. More tears flooded into your eyes at the sight sitting before you in the warm, dim light of the room.

There at the table was a steaming hot plate of your favorite dish, and you can’t help but drool at the sight of the bowtie pasta topped with the bolognese sauce. It was a meal that always brought you comfort, it having been the first thing he’d made you on that first date so long ago. Beside it, a simple glass of freshly squeezed lemonade, a couple of aspirin, and one of his notes he often left sitting around for you to find.

Oh, how that glorious man spoiled you to no end.

You picked up the note and unfolded it, a few tears trickling down your cheeks at the words.

‘Hey, don’t forget I love you.’

Sniffling, a weak, watery laugh spilled out of you at the simple little note. He may not be one for grand gestures and words of poetry, but fuck, the things he did had your heart pitter-pattering in your chest. As if you could ever forget. The man may be shit at verbalizing his emotions, but each and every day he made sure he showed you in some way that he loved you.

Making sure you had at least one hot, home-cooked meal a day, knowing the rest of your day was spent grabbing whatever was fastest.

Doing your laundry for you when you were bogged down with assignments for school, with work your supervisor forced you to take home to finish.

Taking you to your favorite spots on days where you had a little free time, the ones that held the most cherished memories for you.

Hugging you.

Kissing you.

Letting you cuddle up against him on the couch.

The fact that he did any of that even though he was also busy with his own job as a software engineer, was something so heartwarming, something only a man like Levi would do. His position was demanding, full of responsibilities, but he always made sure he made time for you, to take care of you.

Hearing a noise coming from the hall, you spun on your heel to watch as he entered the kitchen, your eyes filling with adoration for the stoic man stepping through the entryway. It stumped you sometimes, the way you’d been able to capture his heart, to break through the walls that had been erected around him, finally finding that soft and sweet interior you knew had existed.

He paused mid-step when he glanced up from his phone— most likely checking for messages from you— eyes widening when he realized you were already there.

“Oh you’re back already? Damn, I thought you were going to be a bit later. The soufflé isn’t quite done yet, but—”

The rest of his words are cut off as his breath huffed out of him at the force of you slamming into him, wrapping your arms tight around him. Burying your face into his neck, the trembles hit your body before you can stop them, breath hitching at the way his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you close against him.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m right here.”

See, that right there was another way of him reminding you he loved you. Simply telling you that he was there for you never failed to have your heart flipping in your chest the way it did in that moment. His voice might be gruff, but the underlying tones of affection were there, and only ever for you, and it had another shudder hitting you.

As always, he held you without resistance, for as long as you needed, another way he showed you. It had taken you time to learn to speak the language of Levi Ackerman, but now? Now you knew, and you read him with ease, could pick up each and every nuance, each twitch of his brow, the quirks of his lips, everything he did that was a clue to what he felt and thought. His heart was held in the palms of your hands, in the most delicate of ways, just as yours was with him.

He pulled back a touch to kiss the top of your head, tucking his knuckles beneath your chin to draw your gaze to his, and swiping away stray tears with his thumb.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up and changed while I finish up in here?”

Nodding you leaned up to peck at his lips before making your way into your bedroom, stripping yourself of your clothes and tossing them into the hamper, your shoes placed neatly on the rack in the closet before changing into some comfy clothes and thick socks. Almost immediately, you felt a weight lift off of you, just from the simple act of removing the fabric you’d worn for the day, as if you’d been removing the events of the day with them.

Throwing your hair into a quick braid, you scurried back out, the smell of the food drawing a fierce rumble from your stomach. When you tried to help him finish, he waved you off, telling you to sit down and relax.

That’s how it usually went with him. He refused help when he sensed your day had been rougher than normal, no matter how much you insisted, not until he felt that you were at ease, relaxed, and taken care of. So you relented, settling in at the table, ravishly digging into the meal, slowly feeling more and more at ease. He sat in the chair next to yours with his own plate of food, and for several moments, the only sounds filling the room were the clinking of forks against the plates.

That was something else special about Levi. He always waited for you to eat, wanting at least one meal where the two of you could spend time together, enjoy each other’s company. It didn’t matter the time. Early afternoon, late evening, early night, no. He didn’t care at all, so long as you ate together. Another reminder of how much he cared for you.

When you’d finished, you leaned back in your chair, a satisfied smile filling your face at how his simple care had made you feel better, the aspirin not even needed as the headache faded on its own. Not having realized your eyes had fluttered closed, you started when he took your hand in his, linking your fingers together. You turned your head to meet his eyes, and your heart flipped in your chest at the affection you see in his, the dim kitchen light making his hair appear darker, and you couldn't help the way your free hand combed through the bangs flopping over his forehead, moving to cup the side of his face.

“You don’t have to do this, you know?”

Without even needing clarification, you knew what he was referring to. It was something he reminded you of regularly, reminding you that he would support you no matter what, that you didn’t have to continue on if you no longer wanted, that you would both figure things out together. You don’t know what you’d done to deserve him, but like hell would you ever let him go.

Tears prick your eyes once more, though gentler this time, and not from the stress of the day. “I know, baby...I want to do this.”

Because at the end of the day, this was something you truly wanted for yourself. You wanted to be able to look back and say, I kept going, and I finished. Even if it wasn’t the right path for you, you wanted the satisfaction that came with that overpriced piece of paper.

And that was all the reassurance he needed as he leaned in to graze his lips across your forehead, drawing a content sigh from you. He was your rock, and he was all you needed to make it through each and every day.

Timed perfectly, he pulled the soufflés out of the oven, setting them down in front of the both of you. His is a tart lemon, yours is a decadent chocolate and you can’t help but moan in delight at the richness that hits your taste buds as you devour the desert. Enjoying each other’s company, the two of you sit in companionable silence as you enjoy the delicious dessert he’d made.

Once finished, he rose to clear away the dishes, though this time you insist on helping, refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer. Sensing that you were more relaxed, he relented, the chore passing by faster with the two of you working together...him washing and you drying of course.

With the dishes out of the way, the two of you were free to end the night in the way you both enjoyed best, cuddling on the couch with your legs swung over his lap, his arm around your shoulders holding you close. As he always did, he’d tossed a throw blanket over the two of you before flicking on the tv, selecting the next episode of the latest tv show you were indulging in together.

It was the perfect end to a shitty day, one that helped you keep going.

Back to Fluff/Comfort Menu

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #soft levi #one shot #fluff #modern au

64 notes · View notes

c-is-writing · 3 years

Text

intimacy

pairing: lena luthor x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1894

warnings: none

a/n: okay ngl i was pretty head empty while writing it so i apologize if this made no absolute sense :’D

original request

It all began with a simple brush against her hand that led to two hands intertwined with each other, swinging back and forth as the two of you walked through a park. The sun was setting, casting a peach light across all surfaces before transitioning into shades of pink and purple until settling into the dark blue of the night. You lean your head on Lena’s shoulder as the two of you continued to walk under the dim lamps scattered along the path. It was almost as if you were the only two people in the whole world. As you absentmindedly hum a tune, Lena could feel the heat rush to her cheeks, painting them red like the sunset sky. The warmth radiating off your body pressed against her side comforted her in a way that she never knew she needed until now. The hand connected to yours suddenly feels burning hot but Lena makes no effort to remove it. There’s no way a Luthor, someone who is meant to be cold and cruel and undeserving of this sort of comfort, could enjoy something like this. Right?

Wrong. Absolutely wrong. Ever since that park date, Lena has practically become addicted to your touch. She constantly craves it like a smoker with a cigarette but she has restraint, she has an image to uphold as a Luthor. To her, it’s almost embarrassing how quickly she gives into your touch. Despite the embarrassment, the CEO is willing to do anything to feel your touch on her skin again.

A knock on the office door brings her out of her dilemma as she looks up to meet your bright smile and bag of takeout in your hand. Immediately feeling a warmth bloom in her chest, she returns the smile as you make your way towards her. Placing the bag down on a spot that’s not covered by papers, you finally greet your lover.

“Hey, Lee.”

“Hi, love.”

“Are you ready to take a quick lunch break or do you still need to finish some work?”

Glancing at the unfinished document on her screen, Lena shakes her head and says, “I’m more than ready for lunch, I’m starving. Just let me clear off my desk first.”

Giving her an okay, you take the bag to the coffee table and settle down, watching as Lena organizes the files. You reach into the brown bag to pull out the lunch items when you hear a gasp. Your head shoots up to see Lena holding her finger tightly. Rushing over you quickly ask, “Is everything okay? What happened?”

Almost laughing, Lena waves it off as nothing major. “I just got a papercut that’s all.”

“May I take a look at it?”

“Oh, sure, I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” Lena says after seeing the concern in your eyes.

She watches as you grab a bandaid from the first aid kit in the office and return to the table. Lena’s heart practically stops as you go to grab the injured hand. The gentle, feather-like grasp on her finger was enough to make her melt on the spot. As you wrap the bandage around the small cut, you press a soft kiss to it before placing her hand back into her lap. At this point, Lena has been reduced to a very flustered and embarrassed mess as her brain scrambles to understand what just happened. You were so gentle and loving with Lena that she could feel your adoration and care for her through your actions. Lena quickly clears her throat to hopefully pause her panicking mind and calm her racing heart.

Noticing how Lena is still sitting in her chair, you take one of her hands and lead her to the couch where the two of you talked and had lunch together. Throughout the conversation and eating, Lena could still feel where you kissed her finger as if she touched a hot stove. Imagine a Luthor being this soft for someone. She can’t enjoy your touch. She’s not allowed to. Or at least, that’s what Lillian kept telling her. Luthors are cruel aren’t they? They are undeserving of love and care, so why should this be any different for Lena? Why does she have to feel so embarrassed about wanting your touch?

Following the papercut incident, Lena found herself exaggerating her headaches and migraines from working constantly at L-Corp just so you could take care of her and cuddle the pain away. This went on for a few weeks and eventually you caught onto what she was trying to do. You realized that early on in the relationship, you always initiated physical contact with Lena and in those moments, she would tense up, making you think that she was uncomfortable with it. Later on, you learned that Lena is trying to get used to receiving so much physical love because it’s still new to her. So, you began to give it to her in small doses whether it was hand holding or pecks on the cheek before you left the apartment. Now, you see that Lena wants more but she’s either too afraid or too embarrassed to ask for it.

Looking down at the CEO that’s currently in your arms, you quietly laugh at the realization and almost find it endearing. You tuck that thought into the back of your mind as you readjust your position on the couch and tighten your hold on Lena. She snuggles a bit deeper into your chest as your focus falls back onto the movie playing on the TV. Maybe, it’s okay to let herself relish your touch as long as you were hers. After all, the Luthor name is simply a name, not a rule for her to follow.

A few days later, you find yourself heading back to your shared apartment where Lena is currently resting. According to Jess, she wasn’t feeling well and decided to take the rest of the day off to ensure that she could recover and work more efficiently tomorrow. It became a normal occurrence for Jess to call you whenever Lena was unwell so that you could take care of her. Upon arriving at the apartment, you find the raven-haired woman curled up in bed. At the sound of the bedroom door opening, she immediately sits up as her eyes light up when they lock with yours. You send her a loving smile as you say, “Lena, I want you to be honest with me.”

Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, Lena simply answers, “Okay…”

“Are you actually feeling unwell or is this an excuse to have me take care of you?”

The moment the question leaves your mouth, Lena’s eyes widen. Shit. Unsure of what to do as you watch Lena try to formulate a response, you decide to turn around and head to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner. As you’re about to leave, Lena desperately calls out, “Y/N, wait!”

Pausing, you turn back around and tilt your head, expecting a response. As she slowly begins to speak, Lena breaks eye contact in favor of tracing the patterns of the bedsheets with her eyes.

“I-, um, yeah, it was an excuse and I’m really sorry for disturbing you while you were at work for this.”

Watching as Lena slumps over in shame, you make your way to the bed and sit down next to her. Quietly waiting for her to continue and give you a reason, an awkward silence fills the bedroom. You’re the first to break the silence.

“Lee, you know I love you right?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Okay, so then, why? Why did you feel the need to make excuses to get me to come?”

“Well, um…” Lena trails off while continuing to look at the bedsheets, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“Babe, if you don’t give me a reason then I’m not giving you any cuddles until you tell me.”

At your words, Lena’s head flies up, exposing her flustered state.

“Wait, no, that’s not fair.” She whines as she tries to wrap her arms around you.

Laughing, you do your best to push her off. With a soft smile, you tell her, “I just want my girlfriend to communicate with me and if I have to revoke cuddling privileges to get you to communicate then I’m going to do it.”

Lena lets out a sigh as she realizes that you’re going to stick to your words and she loves your touch too much to lose it over her slight issue with communicating properly in relationships. Readying herself, she allows the Luthor mindset to slip away from her mind as she opens up to you.

“I really like your touch and I was just afraid of how much I liked it because I wasn’t sure if I deserved it. When I was young, I was always told that Luthors don’t deserve love or care because of our cold nature. But the way you hold me made me melt and I felt tingly all over.” quickly adding in, “In a good way, I promise!”. She takes a deep breath before continuing, “I guess I just felt embarrassed of how strongly I wanted physical contact with you because I wasn’t sure if you would give that much to me. In the back of my mind, I thought that you were giving me all of this physical affection because you felt obligated to and not out of love.”

Taking in her words, your expression begins to soften as you pull Lena into your arms. Your fingers slowly trace random patterns into her back as you begin to speak.

“Oh, Lena, sweetheart. I love you so so much. I’m so sorry that you felt undeserving of this love and attention but I can definitely assure you that you deserve it all and so much more. You are so kind and you are everything that the Luthor name isn’t. You’ve worked so hard at L-Corp and trying to rebrand it as a company for good instead of how it was made before you.” Pulling away, you cup her face in your hands. “I promise that all of the affection that I freely give to you is out of love and not obligation. I will do everything I can to give you all of the love that you deserve. If you ever want cuddles, just ask okay? I’m definitely more than happy to cuddle you whenever you want.”

With your final statement, you seal your promises to Lena with a soft kiss. You pull away from her to see her eyes brimming with tears. She simply nods at your words and you pull her into your chest once again. Lena has never felt so loved in her whole life. You practically radiate love and warmth that she will gladly receive without feeling as embarrassed now. Letting out a sigh of relief, Lena feels lighter now that she was able to open up to you. Before fully settling into your embrace, Lena asks one more question.

“So, does this mean I get my cuddling privileges back?”

Feeling the vibrations in your chest as you laugh, Lena smiles as you reply, “Yes, your cuddling privileges are no longer revoked and you can now ask for them whenever you want. Just promise that you won’t make any more excuses, alright?”

“I promise.”

taglist (all): @teenwonder @procrastinatingsapphictrash @owloftheshadows

#*mine #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x gn!reader #lena luthor x you #lena luthor #supergirl imagine #dc imagine #send help i'm so tired lmao #no thoughts head empty

201 notes · View notes

mieohmy · 3 years

Text

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝖲𝖺𝗐 𝖸𝗈𝗎 | 𝖧𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖱𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇

PAIRING: huang renjun x temp blind! reader

GENRE: angst (with a happy ending), fluff, humor, strangers-to-lovers, shared dreams! au, soulmate! au, college au

WC: 7.6k

NOTES: reader is temporarily blind, cursing, mentions of a car accident, trauma, slight anxiety and depression, mentions of injuries/hospitals

SUMMARY: dreams are your place where you feel alive -feel like yourself. the only place you can still see. which means you don’t want to share them. not with this random guy who keeps appearing in them, and especially not since he seems so real -almost like he actually exists in the real world outside of your dreams, but that couldn’t be possible... right?

oof this is late- anyways, it’s this beautiful soul’s birthday today <3

hbd to our fairy renjunnie !

Three months. Three months stuck in that space.

And all because of a reckless driver. Like they all say, it happened so fast. A single glance of the road. It seemed clear, the pedestrian sign flashing even.

Then was the rush of a car engine coming closer.

You suppose it was also your fault. Whoever it was that caused a notification to ping on your phone. It was an almost natural instinct to take it out and check.

But you were never able to find out.

One of the scariest things in the world is to wake up and wonder why the world is an empty canvas.

Why you have so many questions that can’t be answered.

Why you can’t see the spring anymore.

The doctors said it was temporary. Some kind of head trauma from the accident caused whatever nerves to swell in your eyes.

And that’s why you could no longer see the day. or night. anything.

“It’ll eventually return to normal, and you’ll be able to see again. Just give it time.”

So why has it been three months and nothing except dark moving shadows and pain?

“I’m sorry, we’re not sure how long it’s gonna last. Let’s just wait and see.”

But how much time did you have to give?

You were sent home in the end. The other injuries were much more minor, and you were just prolonging your stay.

Only because you wanted to know. You wanted to know it would all go away. That it would be okay.

You just so desperately wanted to see once more.

They only gave you ambiguous answers. Answers that only made the scratchy and uncomfortable sensation inside you grow bigger.

And here you were now. Four months after the incident and barely living on your own. Sight not improving in the slightest bit.

You lived separately from your parents, far away because of college. They helped you with all the hospital and stupid complicated health stuff, but there wasn’t much else they could do. There was no choice for them but to work hard and earn money instead of assisting you since bills were shit expensive.

You assured them it was fine, you would learn how to deal with everything.

Friends were a different issue. The thing was, you didn’t have very many considering you just moved to a new school, but the few you did were kind and understanding.

Except you never told them about the incident. Maybe because you were in denial. Maybe cause you were ashamed of yourself for ignoring them and cutting them out of your life. Because they got to see and experience everything they wanted while you were stuck behind.

And then you were truly alone. Alone with the faint light and shadows you were still sort of able to see.

Siri basically became your best friend. You never realized how helpful it could be. Just ask, and it would tell you everything you needed to know.

To be honest, there wasn’t much to do. You weren’t able to attend your classes for the time being, and there wasn’t much you could to do without seeing.

It was hard to adjust to life without your sight. There were a lot of things you couldn’t do without your sight. A lot of things were knocked over. A lot of bruises on your body from bumping into obstacles. That’s probably why you barely went out, only ever leaving your place for necessary resources to live.

This is not permanent. It’ll all go away soon.

You constantly told yourself that, repeating it in the morning. At night before you went to bed. But deep inside, you knew the real reason for everything. The denial, stubbornness.

The answer was clear.

Fear.

The fear of a permanent life without being able to fully experience the world.

The fear of what your life would become without having the chance to achieve all your dreams and goals.

You knew you should be grateful. For being able to see from birth until now. You survived your accident with mostly minor injuries. Occasionally, you would get intense migraines- one where you could barely move- but you truly didn’t want to go back to that place to get it checked. You didn’t even want to leave your home.

At least you could still move and function properly for the most part.

But it didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt.

There was one thing. When your eyes closed for the day- when everything was okay.

Because there was no need to feel any emotions asleep.

But also because of the dreams. Mainly because of the dreams.

It wasn’t every day. You would absolutely love to dream every night, but if you did, then something must not be right.

The power to dream and be able to recall everything in the world before you lost it all would be your one wish if anyone asked.

Sure, you could just close your eyes and remember whatever you wanted, but it wasn’t the same.

Dreams were like a story. A story you wanted to read. And you could only do it because of your memories.

Thank the universe for memories. Ones that allowed you to still remember and see again in dreams.

They were the one thing connecting you to the real world.

The weird thing is, sometimes you would dream and be able to choose what you wanted to say and do. It was just like playing a fun game where you could do whatever you wished.

But it didn’t always happen. it only occurred on occasion. Why? You had no clue.

But even so, you’ve never had a stranger appear in one of your dreams before.

ꔫ

You couldn’t recall everything that happened in last night’s dream, but when you woke up, a strange face was the only image stuck in your brain.

You’re sure you’ve never seen him before.

Can brains make up random faces? Or maybe you just made up a fictional character because of loneliness?

Either way, he’s the only thing you can clearly remember.

Your eyes flick open, and it’s the same nothingness.

But his face lingers. Pretty and delicate eyes. Brown hair that flutters in the wind and a gentle smile that sucks you in.

Who are you?

Whoever this person was, you hope to dream about him again.

ꔫ

And he does show up a few weeks later. Or has it been a month? You were really losing track of the days, especially now more than ever.

This time, the image of him is stronger in your head, burning into your skull.

And you curse yourself for not remembering any more than his face.

You rack your brain, trying your best to just think.

Why do some people forget their dreams immediately when they wake up? When it feels like you’re just in one, but your mind starts up again for the day, and the dream vanishes just like that?

You so desperately want to know.

You can faintly remember images of a grassy meadow? Flowers? You don't recall any field that you’ve been to, but maybe it’s just somewhere you’ve forgotten about... Perhaps your mind just made your dream to be located there.

As you get up for the day, you still wish to dream about him. A dream where you can fully control yourself and find this imaginary character you created in your head. Whoever he is.

ꔫ

And the world grants you that one wish.

It’s been a while since you last dreamed. But of course, you never forgot him.

The setting sun is the first thing that catches your attention.

Immediately, you smile, standing up and brushing yourself off.

The place is faintly familiar, a beach. You know which one. The one your parents used to take you when you were little.

It looks exactly the same as you remember, but this was the first time you’ve ever dreamed about this specific place before.

Then sounds of footsteps approaching make you look up.

It’s him.

The fictional character somehow procured from basically nowhere.

What’s strange is that you didn’t even notice how the two of you were now sitting by the shore, watching the waves flow in and out.

What’s even stranger is that you don’t question it, and neither does he.

But you do take the chance to look at him, admiring his face.

“What’s your name?”

He looks startled like he never expected you to speak.

“Oh. Uh, R-Renjun.”

“Renjun,” you pronounce. The name feels unfamiliar on your tongue.

Now how did your mind come up with a unique name like that?

You shrug, letting the dream continue on its own.

But wait, you realize, if you were able to ask and think your own thoughts not according to the dream’s... that means you can control this-

Your eyes snap open. You can see nothing. And feel an oncoming headache.

Damn it.

ꔫ

You want to know why you’re so curious about this ‘character’. Why you want to see him over and over again without ever getting bored.

It’s just a dream. Or, several dreams that he’s appeared in by now.

That could be it, you suppose.

You usually didn’t have about the same person, or in your case, the same ‘character’ appear in your dream three times in a row.

But for some reason, you appreciated having your own imaginary friend in your dreams.

He wasn’t a real person. He wasn’t someone you had to watch out for. You could act however you wanted to him and he probably wouldn’t care.

Wait-no, you correct yourself. He has a name. A name that seems so far but so close at the same time.

Renjun.

You go to sleep chanting his name in your head over and over again.

ꔫ

“Wait... Renjun!”

A satisfied grin appears on your face from having remembered his name.

You stroll along the forest path, an unfamiliar one that you don’t particularly remember ever going to, but you shrug it off and continue towards him.

It’s been a while since you’ve last seen him, not having dreamed for a while.

His eyes widen, taking you in. “Whoa. You’re here again?”

You frown. “Um... yes? It’s nice to see you.”

Renjun nods hesitantly. “You too, uh....”

“Y/n!” you beam. You’re not sure why you’re so happy to see him, but any company is still company, so no complaining.

Since you figured you were able to control yourself in this dream, might as well take the opportunity.

If your brain was able to give him a name and a *cough* pretty *cough* face, he must have a personality. And what better than to get to know ‘renjun’ while you still had dreams about him?

“Do you want to walk together?”

He shrugs.

And since it’s your dream, right? you start on the path, knowing he’s gonna follow you anyways.

You reach an opening overlooking some city. It’s unfamiliar, but the sight is too pretty you don’t think much of it.

You can’t take your eyes away, the view one you’ve never seen before. One that wasn’t from your memories, and it almost blinds you. Especially since you haven’t been able to experience anything new in a while because of... everything at the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

“It is,” Renjun agrees.

Why is it so natural for you to sit next to him, get along with him?

“I haven’t been able to go out like this for a while, so it’s a lot to take in at once.”

He glances at you.

“Really? Why?”

Suddenly the air feels tightening.

“Um. Health stuff. I guess.”

Renjun nods. “That’s understandable. But going out might be good for you. It’s nice to get a little fresh air every once in a while.”

His words hit differently. It rings inside of you, making you sit up.

“You’re right, Renjun. I should go out more.” Your voice is quiet but smooth.

Suddenly, he laughs. It’s a beautiful sound flowing out in a beautiful place.

“I say that, but honestly, I’m also holed up inside all day. I need to go out more too.”

You don’t get what he means by that- why does it matter to a non-existent person how often they go outside?- but the feeling of just being here is incredible. You can’t waste your time in this dream pondering on pointless thoughts.

“You should take advantage of it. You never know what could happen one day. Never take things for granted.” You finish, voice suddenly serious.

He looks surprised. “Oh. I suppose you’re right. Thanks, y/n.”

Instead of responding, you sit back on the ground, looking at the dream -but still beautiful- sky.

Your hand pats around for a second before landing on its target. Your fingers wrap around renjun's, pulling him back so he plops down next to you with a grunt.

“Geez, could’ve given a warning.”

“There’s no need for warnings here,” you sigh.

Sure, the clouds aren’t real, but you’ll take any chance to see something you can’t in reality anymore.

“Y/n,” he starts.

And when you turn to look at him, his face is a lot closer than you thought.

There’s a pause.

The last things you remember are his long fluttering eyelashes and alluring brown eyes- ones that look so realistic and strangely familiar?

That morning, you wake up with the scent of the woods still lingering in the air and a little more ease in your heart.

ꔫ

Over the next couple of months, Renjun keeps appearing. And you’re completely fine, even delighted with that.

Now you’re always excited to go to bed, hoping each night that you’ll dream about him.

Even as the days get hotter and your a/c is definitely getting overused, you find yourself thinking about him and imagining if he was next to you.

You had to keep reminding yourself that Renjun wasn’t real. No matter how much you wished he was.

But you still considered Renjun your friend. Technically, your only friend.

And each time you met in your dreams, you felt happier and more content. You felt alive next to him, your heart that always beat faster around him only confirming it.

Sometimes you’d spot Renjun in a place from your memories, and sometimes he would appear in a completely unfamiliar area to you.

You didn’t care enough to think twice. A new place with new sights was a highlight to your encounters.

And today, it was no different. A colorful park. You know you’ve never been here before, but it feels like you’ve seen it somewhere..... perhaps somewhere online?

Ever since the second time you met him, you noticed a theme with the unknown places you sometimes ended up in.

Mostly in nature, surrounded by fresh air and plentiful green. You were confused, but I mean, who cares? They were beautiful, peaceful. Places that made you forget everything.

You find Renjun sitting down at a nearby bench, messing with his hands.

“Hi.”

He looks up, attempting to smile, but it falls short. “Hello, y/n.”

That’s interesting. Renjun always seemed happy to see you. At this point, you can tell when he’s acting strange or not.

You decide to play along. “What’s up?”

“Oh. It’s nothing. Just really stressed about upcoming school stuff.” You cock an eyebrow, amused. This isn’t the first time you’ve felt weird when he says something like that.

“You know, for being an imaginary character, you sure act like a real person.”

“What did you just say?” Renjun stands up.

You follow, getting up and looking at him, confused. “What?”

“What the hell do you mean by imaginary?”

“Imaginary? You don’t exist -like you’re not real?”

“No way.”

Your eyebrows raise. Why was he getting so defensive over this?

“I’m not an imaginary character- you are.”

A scoff escapes your lips. What the fuck?

“Stop talking nonsense.” Even though you’re trying to stand your ground, you can’t help but reevaluate everything. You look at him, panicked but still staring straight into his eyes as if to say, stop the joking right now.

Renjun only stares at you, fighting back with a headstrong expression. “I’m not. So you should stop too.”

You place your hand on his arm, inhaling.

Renjun tries to pull away, bewildered, but you keep your grip.

His arm feels warm, veins partially showing through. Almost like a real.....no way. But there’s even a faint scar on his wrist. Your brain couldn’t possibly be so meticulous as to add such details to a fictional person.

Your eyes flick to Renjun, studying him, memorizing everything you can about him.

Your breathing is heavy as you step closer to him, almost in a daze. “If you’re not just an imaginary person I created in my dreams,” you whisper, watching as he swallows and his adam’s apple bobs up and down-

“Then who are you?”

But before he can say anything, the world fades to black.

You wake up with an immense urge to scream in frustration but also hide away to just think everything over.

You lay in bed for what feels like hours. Contemplating. Panicking.

This was a joke, wasn’t it?

He’s lying.

Just a dream?

But this time, you can’t say that it was “just a dream..”

Your hand punches the bed in defeat.

You don’t understand. How are you able to see another living and breathing human in your dreams?

All the things and places you were able to dream about were because of your memories. But Renjun... Renjun was a complete stranger.

So how are you able to see him perfectly fine?

You think back to all the previous times you met him.

If he truly was real, then he must’ve been dreaming too? Since he believed you weren’t real either?

And all the unrecognizable places you saw -they must exist in real life?

That means.... you and Renjun must be sharing dreams.

There were a lot of questions. All that were making your brain pound.

More importantly, how the fuck are you even able to share dreams with another person?

ꔫ

You spend every night praying that you’ll fall asleep and see Renjun again.

Renjun? Is that even his real name?

Oh my god, you don’t know anything about him.

But for some reason, it isn’t hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that he exists.

His reaction seemed so real -he couldn’t possibly be faking right?

You smack your head on the pillow. Many times. Repeating, “Go to sleep. Dream. Go to sleep,” over and over again.

Until eventually, you do.

And when you find yourself at your old middle school- gross- you immediately start.

Getting up, you navigate throughout the old place. Everywhere’s blurry and hazy though, you suppose it’s because you haven’t been here in a while and forgot.

Where is he? You know he has to be here somewhere.

You spot his familiar silhouette. Target acquired.

He must’ve felt your presence too, since he turns around to face you.

You’re about to say his name, but then you remember the whole ‘he’s actually a real person thing’ and then you can only splutter out an accusing “you!” with an accompanying point of a finger.

“Me?” His eyes widen. “No-you’re not supposed to be a real person. So who are you?”

“I’m y/n.” You repeat yourself again with more force.

“This is my dream, and you’re in it. Look,” you gesture around. “This is my old school. If I wasn’t real, could we be here at a place like this?”

Renjun falters, and you exhale. “I’m not joking. I swear. My name is y/l/n y/n.”

He holds his hands out. “B-but how? How can you-?”

You shake your head wearily. “I don’t know. I don’t even know you!”

He sighs in defeat. “My name is Renjun. Huang Renjun. And I promise I’m not joking either. I truly thought you were just a figment of my imagination.”

You nod, fidgeting before holding out a hand. “Well then, I believe you. Nice to meet you,” you look into his glittering eyes, “Huang Renjun.”

When his hand touches yours, you feel a rush of emotions.

You think he does too, judging by his tightening grip on yours.

He quickly takes his hand away, making you frown. “And just to prove it, you know the forest we were at once?”

You nod, recalling the pretty leaves. You haven’t seen leaves in a while.....

“It’s near my city in the real world. And that mountain too.”

Then it hits you. You glance up at Renjun, surprised.

“No way. I know where you’re talking about. You live like, a couple of hours away from me.”

“Wait, really? Where do you-“

You sit up, feeling the familiar sensation of a blanket around your legs.

And then let out a loud screech of frustration - while also internally apologizing to your neighbors.

ꔫ

When you meet Renjun in the next dream, you pick off where you left off, and move into telling each other about your actual lives.

“You study plants? That explains why we’re always near grass in your dreams.”

“Hey!”

“I’m joking. It’s really nice. I like it more than you may think..”

“Seriously,” you look up from your position on his lap, “savor it while you can.”

He nods dutifully. To others, it may seem annoying or strange that you’re constantly telling him to enjoy when he still has the time, but Renjun appreciates it.

It’s always a nice reminder.

He assumes something must’ve happened to you before, but nevertheless, he doesn’t pry.

“What about you? What are you studying?”

Suddenly, you can’t look at him. You're unable to tell him that you don’t even attend school anymore.

“Um, I’m still deciding... it’s hard, you know?”

“I get it. Comfortably take your time. You don’t have to rush, do what you want.”

Your heart warms.

“Can you cook?”

“Eh.”

“What about roller skating?”

“I’m a pro.”

“Bet I could beat you.”

“Oh yeah? Just wait, one day we’ll go together in person, and I’ll kill you at it.”

“What about aliens?”

Your eyebrows raise. “What about aliens?”

“What- what do you think of them?”

“Oh. Aliens are cool.”

“Do you think they’re real?

“Sure. I mean, if we’re able to share dreams like this, then why can’t aliens exist too?”

You miss the growing smile on renjun’s face.

“.... is this what you really look like in real life?”

“What- yes! Why would I look like someone else in my dream?”

“I dunno, you’re a lot more handsome than most guys I can remember..” you trail off, hoping he doesn’t catch the rest of the sentence. He does.

That goes on for a while, asking each other random questions. But while you’re still here in the dream, you should take advantage of it.

Standing up, you brush yourself off.

“Huh, what’s up y/n?”

“The sky.”

Renjun scowls.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.”

And then you sprint off, yelling, “first one to the tree gets bragging rights!!”

Renjun falls halfway, and you have to help him and his dramatic ass.

ꔫ

When Renjun brings up the prospect of possibly meeting each other in real life, you’re both really excited at first.

But then it hits you. That’s right. You’re kinda blind at the moment.

You never once told him about your... sight problems, probably because you first thought he wasn’t even a real person, and it never seemed important.

As Renjun sits there, excitedly listing off ways to find each other that actually while you’re awake, you can only absentmindedly nod, a storm brewing inside you.

It makes your insides churn. Should you tell him?

You hated lying, but there was that growing insecurity rising up.

What if he finds out everything and doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore?

What if Renjun doesn’t want to be your friend?

What if...

He leaves you?

“Y/n???” He waves a hand in front of you.

You blink. “Yes?”

“I was just talking about how it’ll take around 3 hours to take the subway to your city or, yours to mine. When we both have a free day, we should meet up!”

He looks so excited and cute, but you still cringe. When was the last time you took the subway?

You nod uneasily. Renjun must notice your expression because he turns concerned, “Are you alright?”

You hastily smile. “Fine. Just really stressed about upcoming school stuff,” you joke.

That answer must be good enough because he drops the subject.

What have you gotten yourself into?

ꔫ

And for the first time, you’re scared to dream.

Scared to see Renjun.

Stress and anxiety gnaw at your head, swirling thoughts constantly floating in and out.

Renjun won’t like you anymore.

He doesn’t want to be with a liar.

And after he excitedly mentions that he obtained an internship near your city in the spring, your guilt and frustration grow more.

Since that one conversation, you’ve been having more and more headaches, most likely because of the lack of sleep from stress.

Renjun’s probably sleeping peacefully hours away from you as you stay up, plagued with concerns.

You shake your head, wanting to get rid of bad thoughts so the pain doesn’t overtake your brain again.

Think of happy things. Happy memories when you were young and carefree.

Like.... the one water park you went to with your friends years ago. That was a good memory.

You rack your brain.

Wait a second -what did it look like again?

ꔫ

As the air turns colder, you have to bust out the old heater that hasn’t been used in years-the dust floating in the air lingered for days.

Overtaking your breathing, your brain.

Just like your thoughts.

You’re still constantly worrying about Renjun. Because of Renjun.

And yourself.

You and Renjun.

Renjun and you.

All those thoughts weren’t good for you. Why you may ask?

More thoughts lead to overthinking.

Overthinking leads to stress.

Stress causes the agonizing headaches.

And those headaches are the bane of your existence.

Because it makes you unable to recall.

The headaches weren’t a big deal at first. After the car accident, the doctors said your brain seemed clear for the most part.

But obviously- it wasn’t- since you were here now with daily migraines- the pain multiplied from anxiety.

And that caused your memory loss.

It was simple things at first, just like what you ate for the day and where you put your stuff. (It was already difficult since you couldn’t see, and the forgetful memory was making it so much worse)

And then it was the more important recollections.

Like what your parents' birthdays were. Your favorite restaurant. What schools you attended.

You don’t want to admit that the only thing left perfectly clear in your brain is yours truly, Huang Renjun.

This isn’t happening.

Pigs can’t fly and.... you can’t remember.

Why? Every time you try to think of something, your brain pounds like crazy.

You really don’t want to believe it’s an effect of the accident. And the stress.

You don’t want to think about it at all.

But sadly, you were still human and had to sleep.

Which meant eventually dreaming sooner or later...

“Y/n!”

Wait. What?

“What’s going on?”

No. What’s happening?

“I know people don’t dream that often, but three months and nothing from you? I went to bed, happy at the thought that we might meet again, but it’s like you’re purposely not sleeping and avoiding me or something-!”

There’s no way you heard everything he just said, even his irritated tone that you’ve never heard before didn’t faze you.

Due to the fact that everything except Renjun himself was a blur.

Basically- you couldn’t see shit.

Your heart rate begins to pick up. You swirl around, squinting and rubbing your eyes like crazy.

Why? Why is this happening? Why can’t you see the dream world around you?

But you know the reason- it’s quite obvious.

Since your memory disappeared just like that. And without your memories, everything has crumbled to nothing.

Ironically, you forgot about Renjun who was still standing there, perfectly fine.

“Y/n? What wrong?”

He snaps a finger in front of you, and you barely react.

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Your voice has been reduced to a whisper.

“Listen-I-why are you lying? I thought we were friends. I thought we trusted each other enough to talk honestly.”

It’s too much. Renjun’s growing anger plus everything you’re experiencing at the moment is overwhelming.

“Just stop-!” You screech, arms held out in front to protect yourself from everything.

He freezes.

And you collapse on the ground, hands shaking as you look around. Look for anything you can clearly see.

There’s nothing.

The worst pain ever runs through your brain- the feeling to curl up in a ball and stop everything is strong.

“Y/n- please. Please talk to me.”

He leans in front of you.

“I- see-“ you splutter, collecting your thoughts.

Your mouth forms the words but immediately comes to a halt.

He doesn’t know.

You stare at him, helpless. Your eyes flicking all over the place, pupils dilated.

Renjun does the only thing he can think of at the moment.

He places his lips on yours, and your eyes automatically close.

Your heart steadies, adrenaline slowly fading.

He just feels... right.

And then his hand brings your body closer to his, making-

You sit up in bed, breathing heavily.

All you can think is,

what a dream.

And as much as you still feel the ghost of his soft lips on yours, you can’t get over the fact that everything else was blurry.

You could only see faint lights and shadows.

You couldn’t remember.

ꔫ

No.

What does the sky look like again?

No.

Why can’t you remember the day anymore?

You spend days- weeks maybe even- trying to recall as much as possible. And spend less time attempting to sleep for the chance that you’ll have to see Renjun again.

Your mind is in shambles. One part of you is yearning to see him -find Renjun in the dreams again and explain everything.

But the other part is scared. Extremely terrified at his reaction. His feelings.

Will he still- you dare to say- like you?

I mean, that kiss had to mean something, right?

Right?

You smack the nearest object in exasperation.

I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.

Can everything just stop?

Your poor pillow has been punched into oblivion by now.

Either way, you fall into what could be considered a slump.

A slump in life.

The uncomfortable sensation grows bigger and bigger each day since the only thing you can do is stay at home and dwell on the fact that your life is basically over now.

There's no recovery in sight -ha- of your future.

Each night is spent exerting your aching brain to recall.

The only thing that comes back is Huang Renjun.

But once again, you’re only human. A human that occasionally passes out from the lack of sleep.

Renjun would be nagging at you. Your heart automatically drops at the thought of him. How long has it been since you last seen him?

More importantly- how long has it been since you last properly slept?

You can’t even see yourself but you know the eye bags you’re carrying are bigger and brighter than your future.

You call out for Siri.

“It’s currently 3:21 AM.“

You sigh, so desperately wanting to chuck your phone across the room even though you know finding where you threw it would take hours.

Pathetic.

And then you figured you must’ve fallen asleep.

Because you open your eyes. And at first, it just seems like another day of barely making it through life, but no- this is different.

You’re not in your bed. You’re on a blank, hard surface.

You realize where you are right as a familiar voice calls out your name.

The fear that courses through you is a feeling to laugh at.

“What the fuck, y/n.”

There’s no way you’re getting out of this.

“What’s going on? I just wanna know why. You ghost me for months without saying anything. I deserve an explanation.” Renjun’s fists are clenched at his side, anger barely seeping through.

You sigh wearily, partly from him and partly from the fact that you still can’t see anything else except his face.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been going through stuff, okay?” You hope your tone is enough to tell him that you don’t want to talk about this anymore.

But it isn’t.

“What things? You can tell me, y/n. I thought we were close enough for that. I thought we trusted each other.”

As much as your heart clenches at his words, it isn’t enough to suppress the frustration building inside you.

“This isn’t about trust, Renjun. It doesn’t matter if I trust you or not. What does it have to do with me telling you about my life? It’s my privacy.”

His eyes burn into yours.

“So you don’t trust me?”

“What- of course, I do! Why are you so stuck up on that?”

“Cause I care about you,” he groans, running his hands through his hair. “I care about you- a lot- but clearly, you don’t seem to return the feelings!”

“What? What makes you think that!?”

“Because you act like this!” He forcefully gestures. “Because you push me away without any explanation and don’t show any sign of your feelings! Don’t seem affected like I am when I haven’t seen you in months and miss you, okay?”

You pinch your nose bridge, annoyed. “Well, I’m different. If you cared about me that much, wouldn’t you have noticed?”

You know your words mean nothing. They’re just randomly produced from the deepest, darkest insecurities that are pent up inside and need to escape.

“What’s so different about you? As far as I’ve known and seen you, you’re just another human like me-“

“-Because I can’t see fucking anything, okay?” You yell, forcing yourself to take a breath.

“I’ve been blind for what seems like forever, and at first it was all okay, but now I can’t remember anything except you, which means I can’t see shit. Is that a good enough answer for you?”

You feel your body trembling, barely able to look at him.

A good silence lasts for a couple of minutes.

You turn around, anywhere away so you don’t have to look at his face anymore- since he’s stupidly the only thing you can even see.

You don’t know what to feel. Perhaps relief for finally saying it? Exhaustion from keeping everything pent up and finally letting it all out?

Then you recognize the sensation.

You’re waking up.

You think Renjun calls your name at the exact moment. But it’s too late. You’re already gone at that point.

And now you don’t know what to do.

ꔫ

After that, you get the best sleep in your life. There’s surprisingly no more stress about lying to Renjun, you already spilled everything.

On the other hand, there is his whole response. But you bury those worries deep inside.

Maybe it’s for the better, you think. After the fight, you couldn’t the guilt go. The angered lies that slipped from your lips won’t leave.

Renjun doesn’t deserve someone like you.

But for once, you decide to go out. To get some needed fresh air like someone once advised you to, and also because you’re running out of food to eat.

Before you leave, you grab the sunglasses on the counter and put them on. Most people would just think you’re avoiding the spring sun, which is exactly what you wanted.

You didn’t want them to see your blank stare and then realize that you had lost your sight. It was simply more comfortable for you and others.

It was always a challenge to go out. Strange how normal people would never think twice before closing the door behind them and entering the outside world, but it became something you had to prepare yourself for.

Taking a deep breath, you close the door behind you and navigate as best as you can to the nearby cafe.

Sure, you barely left your place, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy a refreshing drink outside every once in a while.

Two people bump into your side, and you barely spare them a second, continuing on.

An apology is given, but you brush it off, hiding your face and quickly continuing on.

That’s strange. One of the voices sounded really familiar, but it was too quick, and you barely heard the voice enough to pinpoint it.

It happened all the time- if not always- running into another person. But this time, it was different. After touching the stranger's shoulder by accident, it felt like a flame burst inside of you. Intense enough to make your head spin a little and set your body alight.

And the sun wasn’t making it better.

Gosh, why is the sun so bright today?

You brush it off, opening the door to the cafe and taking your sunglasses off to be polite and not seem weird or suspicious.

You squint at the board, cautiously walking to the register and ordering.

After they confirm your order, you find a nice spot alone in the corner.

It’s not too busy or slow today, you note. But soon boredom overcomes you, and eventually, you find yourself staring at the entrance door whenever someone new enters for no reason in particular.

The entrance bell rings, and your eyes subconsciously flick to see who it is.

Wait.

No fucking way.

It can’t be.

Huang Renjun?

in your city?

Entering the same cafe you were currently at?

You suddenly remember. One dream, a long time ago when he excitedly rambled on about that internship he got. Located where you lived. That’s right, he said it was in the springtime. And here he was now.

A string of curses run through your brain, your heart beginning to pick up its pace in panic.

You debate just leaving. But your order..... oh god, what if he sees you?

Will he recognize you? Stupid, obviously Renjun would recognize you.

What if he comes up to you?

Shit, you have no clue what to do.

Maybe if you just look away and hide your face when he passes, then he won’t see you.

You look down, pretending to be occupied with your shirt and shuddering when you hear his voice get closer.

You let out a tiny sigh of relief when he passes with someone else, you suppose a friend. But it’s not over.

“Order for y/n!”

You unleash more curses internally. Of course, they had to call your name. Of fucking course.

You desperately hope Renjun isn’t paying attention.

Exhaling, you try to act as normal as possible walking up to get your drink. But before you even make it there, you can feel eyes on you. It burns the back of your head.

You scream into your mouth, teeth gritting to barely muffle the sound.

It’s okay, just pretend you can’t see him -you already yelled at him confessing that you were blind anyway, so maybe he thinks that you can’t see him.

It’s fine.

Act normal.

You obtain your order and take one step carefully at a time.

Oh no.

Oh no- he’s coming towards you. You can just barely see in your peripheral view Renjun approaching and getting closer.

“Y/n.”

You try not to stiffen at his voice. Just act like you’re blind and can’t see him.

Turning around, you pretend to act blank. “Yes? Who’s talking to me?”

“Y/n,” Renjun says more insistently.

“I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. Who are you?”

And then his hand reaches out to yours.

You panic, swatting it away.

You hear renjun's breath hitch. “Wait- how did you do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Y-you,” he stutters, “you blocked my hand. B-but how? I don’t-“

You frown. “Cause I saw it?”

Your hand raises up to cover your mouth.

You saw his hand.

You can see.

What- when did this happen?

How did this happen?

Why didn’t you notice?

There are so many things swirling in your mind, but Renjun calls your name again.

You look back at him, truly look at him, and suddenly it’s like all the puzzle pieces fit together.

He’s breathtaking. It’s so different seeing him in person and not in your dreams. If anything, you’re jealous of how much prettier he seems in real life.

You’re not sure how long you stare at each other. Seeing those eyes that once captivated your soul right in front of you.

“The last time I saw you was in my dream,” you breathe, “but it feels like the first time I’m meeting you.”

Renjun doesn’t say anything, and abruptly you find yourself in his arms.

You don’t care that you’re hugging in the middle of a public place, it just feels so right.

You bury your face in his shoulder, unable to speak.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you. I was just so afraid at what you'd say, and I just liked you too much and I’m sorry-“

Renjun pulls back, staring at you like he hasn’t seen anything more magnificent before.

“It doesn’t matter. You can tell me everything you want now.”

ꔫ

“I’m happy to report that the swelling in your optic nerves has gone down. It’s like a miracle occurred,” the doctor remarks.

Luckily, renjun’s internship lasted for a couple weeks, and you were able to spend as much time as possible with him. The only time you weren’t next to his side was when he was working or you were at the doctor's to check up on your condition.

There was no more blankness. There were no more headaches. It’s like Renjun brought a breath of fresh air into your life. It’s almost like he was meant for you.

You simply smile and laugh at the doctor as you think,

Yes, a miracle did happen. One where I met the person who seemed only like a dream and learned the most important lesson in my life.

That dreams really can come true.

Bonus :

“Renjun, you’re going the wrong way.”

“Well excuse me for not having ever been to this place before.”

“Okay, you’re excused.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, and you grin cheekily before taking his hand.

“C’mon, we still have to get to the top.”

“Did you get the blankets?”

“Yep.”

“And the snacks?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got your favorite.”

It’s been so long since you came here. Your favorite spot to stargaze. The one you went to all the time before the accident. The one you were going to when the car accident happened.

But this time it was different. You had Renjun next to you.

After ten minutes of hiking and Renjun complaining, you finally make it to the top of the secluded hill, the night sky seeming so close and yet so far.

Renjun takes everything in with a breath. “Wow. I can see why you love this place.”

You feel a rush of emotions. How long has it been since you were able to come here and see the stars?

You two set up the blankets and sit back, embracing the sight.

He sits down on the blanket, and you automatically lie down next to him, placing your head in his lap.

“Doesn’t this remind of you that one dream where we saw your city from above?”

Renjun grins. “I remember that. I still thought that you were just a fake simulation or whatever. And now look, we’re together in real life.”

You hum thoughtfully.

“Thank you, Renjun.”

He looks down at you. “For what?”

Suddenly you can’t look him in the eye. “For everything. For being my friend and never leaving,” you gulp, nervous.

“I... I love you.”

Renjun jerks a little, eyes wide. “What did you just say?”

You breathe in, out. “I love you, huang renjun.”

He starts laughing for some reason, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“I love you too.”

After that, you enjoy the peaceful silence and the buzz of the insects.

“...don’t you think this would be a hotspot for aliens to come to? This field is so vast and secluded -if I were an alien, I would come here a lot.”

You shrug. “I don’t know. But I guess I would too.”

Renjun suddenly looks at you with an accusing glare. And you catch on, smacking his side.

“Don’t even think about it.”

He feigns ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Okay sure. You totally weren’t gonna say something about how I could be an extraterrestrial creature from another planet since I come here so often.”

“Well-”

You stuff food in his mouth to shut him up.

He chews for a minute or two before talking again.

“.... what if we get abducted by them?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. I’ve been here so many times, and nothing happened to me.”

“Maybe that’s because you are a-“

“Oh my gosh. Just stop. And trust me, if I were one, you would already be abducted with that face,” you joke.

You look up from your spot on his lap, staring up at the twinkling lights in the dark sky.

“It doesn't matter, I’m not scared.”

Renjun looks down at you with a curious smile. “Why?”

“Because everything got a little better when I saw you.”

And the stars seem to agree, twinkling in the background when your lips reach up to meet his.

You had so many questions that couldn’t be answered.

But maybe it would all be okay.

Because you could suddenly see the spring again.

a/n: if you made it to the end, thank you for reading :)

also i tried my best to research as much as i could on all related topics to this work yadaddaa but if there are errors and inaccuracies, i apologize!

taglist: @elcie-chxn @dearseungie

unable to tag: @flower-lise

#cznnet #kpopscape #nct #nct dream #huang renjun #renjun #renjun x reader #nct dream x reader #huang renjun x reader #renjun scenarios #huang renjun scenarios #renjun imagines #huang renjun imagines #nct x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #renjun fluff #renjun angst

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 3 years

Text

Subtitles: Episode 3, Now in Color

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: Things are going well between [Y/N] and their new partners but what shenanigans will ensue as the Maximoff baby’s arrival quickly approaches and they’re pulled into the throughs of building a nursery and… child delivery?

Word count: 10,640

Warnings: Cotton candy fluff, chaos, baby. So the usual, plus babies.

Tag list: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 (It won’t tage you for some reason, I’m sorry ;-; ) @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend

~~~

You huffed and sat back on your heels, slipping a sore finger into your mouth. “Stupid bird.”

The bird in question, a pink flamingo made of plastic and wire, seemed to sneer at you from its position sticking a few inches farther out of the grass than it should be. Because of this, you could still see the main stake sticking out of the bottom of the bird’s standing foot, which, much to your distaste, made the pink plastic-feathered creature look like it was trapped on a piece of wood impaled in its foot rather than lounging on one foot in the lush green grass of your yard.

You had spent a good portion of today working on your yard and garden and waiting for a member of the household across the street to step outside and beckon you over. Dressed in overalls stained by grass and dirt, a brightly colored T-shirt, a sun hat, and working shoes, you forced yourself to keep busy by planting new flora and putting down new garden fences and decor while Vision and Wanda were tucked away indoors, preparing for a baby. You were the only one so far to know about the Maximoff bun in the oven outside of the parents and although it seemed like just last week that Wanda had gotten pregnant, the baby had finally big enough that the couple had to involve a doctor to make sure all was going well.

It also felt like not long ago that the couple had asked you out for the first time. Both of them. At the same time. It was news to you that they had felt even remotely felt the same way about you as you had about them but the rest of that conversation had gone swimmingly with you being too nervous and dumbstruck to do much more than blubber questions. The first date and then the second went a similar way, with you not being completely sure that you were on a three-person date or even awake. Luckily, your new partners were just as unnerved as you were and the three of you agreed to simply play it by ear and communicate a lot.

Some time and a few sporadic dates later and things were going smoothly. Almost every bit of free time was spent at either their place or yours; if it wasn’t free time, you were giving Vision rides to work and leaving cute messages in the files you left at his desk—you always hoped they were cute, anyway, and not annoying, only to be reassured when you got a smiley back or your favorite treat from the breakroom left with the file when it was returned—or trying to help Wanda clean or cook or take a break despite her stubborn fussing against it. Vision was the first to give you a pet name, Wanda was the first to hold you in place when you attempted to pull away from a normally quick handhold or hug, and you were the first to press kisses to both their cheeks after walking them home from dinner. Wanda fell asleep on your couch first, you on theirs second, and Vision went ahead and turned cheek pecks into lip kisses. You weren’t quite ready to initiate them yourself yet but you hadn’t been complaining when Vision caught you on your porch steps and kissed you on the mouth; the rain that had just started had either been just a bonus or his initial inspiration.

As nice as everything has been, though, you were still worried about overstepping boundaries with the married couple so when Vision invited you over to be a part of the doctor visit, you politely declined. Instead, after the doctor left, you were to head over and bring your tools to help set up the nursery; it was also your joint job with Vision, who was now a baby book reading master but also increasingly bugged out about Wanda and the baby’s health, to try and convince said woman to relax for once in her life—a task difficult enough to be on the list of Hercules’ Twelve Labors, you were convinced at this point.

For now, though, you were sitting with your feet beginning to cramp and your knees getting damp and most likely more grass-stained, glaring at the devil in pink whose foot-stake had left your finger with a prick from a splinter and whose one visible dark eye stared at you with sadistic mirth.

“Oh, you wanna go, Bernard?” you scoffed at the bird-shaped plastic, dropping your hand from your mouth and pushing yourself up into a squat. “I’ll call you out. Let’s go!” You raised your hands in a fighting stance and bounced on the balls of your feet as you prepared to strike.

The sound of a chainsaw starting up caught you off guard mid-bounce and you lost your balance but what caught your eye when you twisted around while rubbing your now-bruised tailbone was Vision walking outside his front door with an older gentleman, presumably the doctor. However, you paid very little attention to said other man as you laid in the middle of your yard, twisted into what was probably a partial yoga pose, resting your chin on your arm and making lovey-dovey eyes at the former.

Not that it was surprising at all, Vision looked very nice today. He was wearing dark blue pants and a similarly colored sweater over a collared shirt and tie, with a honey-brown jacket topping everything off; you couldn’t imagine wearing a shirt plus two outerwear items in the heat of the day but you certainly didn’t mind seeing him all dressed up. His hair was somewhere between jaw and shoulder length and wavy as ever and while you weren’t a fan of the popular 70s cut, he not only pulled it off but made it look incredibly attractive. He greeted his next-door neighbor Herb, who started up the chainsaw, then spoke animatedly, as he always did, to the doctor. Talking about keeping the baby news to themselves, no doubt.

Vision watched as the doctor walked off down the sidewalk and as he happened to pass in your direction, Vision’s gaze refocused to settle on you instead. The expression on his face changed from purely friendly to something deeper and you felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach as he waved over to you.

“Hello, perfectly platonic neighbor!” he hollered, to which you responded in kind after snorting and then disentangling yourself from your strange position.

No response from Herb about the odd greeting. The cul-de-sac, and in Westview in general, people didn’t seem concerned with your trio’s out-of-place shenanigans as long as it didn’t directly affect them, you had noticed over time. You could have probably walked over and planted a brazen smooch on Vision’s perfect mouth while out in the open, with other neighbors milling about, and no one would bat an eye.

But that’s exactly what we’re not going to do, you thought stubbornly as you stood and brushed yourself off. Not yet, anyway. I want to make sure they’re both comfortable with it first.

Vision seemed to grasp what your plan was because he waited for you as you gave Bernard the flamingo a fight postpone notice and then a light kick before walking across your yard and heading across the street. If you had been more rational, you would have grabbed your tools so you could have just come inside when you reached the Maximoff house but your brain, muddled with the pink mist of freshly requited affections, could only think of getting closer to the man, maybe even holding hands or nuzzling noses.

A sound that was equal parts loud and awful caught both your and Vision’s attention as you reached the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Looking over, you both saw Herb cutting away with his chainsaw, only now he wasn’t cutting through bushes but the stone wall separating his and Wanda and Vision’s homes. The stone blocks of the wall weren’t super heavy-duty, you supposed, but the sound made you cringe, and the sight was a little jarring. Herb didn’t seem to realize was he was doing despite the lack of hedges in his path.

“Hey Herb,” Vision yelled over the noise, “think you might’ve taken the hedge trimming a little too far there, old chum!” As he spoke, he glanced over at you and, seeing you nearby, instinctively shifted in your direction; you moved to meet him halfway and you each gave the other’s hand a quick affectionate squeeze, though both pairs of eyes were trained on Herb.

Herb, who looked up, smiled, and responded, “So I have! Thanks, buddy.” Despite saying this, he continued to cut through the bordering wall and stare glassily ahead as if none the wiser.

The expression gave you an unnerving sense of familiarity but you couldn’t quite put a name to the vague memory of a person you’d seen wearing it. Acquiring a migraine medication and forcing yourself to not look too hard into every strange thing that happened in this town helped but your headaches appeared to never quite go away. This was proven by the muted throb across one side of your head that came with looking at the bizarre scene.

“Yeah,” Vision said a little quieter, “don’t mention it.”

The action only happened briefly but when you caught him chewing his lower lip, you felt your innards tie themselves in knots and had a particularly hard time tearing your gaze away. Now that you were closer, you also noticed that the blue and brown ensemble he wore perfectly matched his hair and eyes. That hair that you always desperately wanted to brush your fingers through.

Fingers carefully slipping around your hand, like if they held you any tighter your own would break, managed to catch your attention as Vision turned to lead you inside.

“Oh,” you chirped, tugging your hand back to point a thumb over your shoulder, “I forgot my tools. Meet you in a minute?”

Vision seemed persistent to bring you inside, even going so far as to catch both your arms and doing a playful series of shimmies and sways to dance the two of you closer to the front door. Now that you were out of Herb’s frozen line of sight, the two of your found yourselves standing so close together that there wasn’t a single pocket of space between your bodies. When you inhaled, you smell cologne that wasn’t too light or too heavy and a scent that you could only describe as the heat of a warm, sunny day. Thinking as he would only smell sweat and dirt and grass if he did the same, you blushed and made a note to change before you came back over.

Whatever Vision thought about how you smelled or the clothes you wore, he didn’t seem to care enough, if at all. He took advantage of being out of sight to move his hands from your hours to your waist—a much more convincing position indeed—and nuzzled his nose to your hairline, now exposed as your hat rested farther back on your head.

“You know very well that you can use ours,” he said.

You felt his warm breath on your forehead. If you weren’t standing up and didn’t have the nagging feeling that you were getting dirt on his nice sweater, you would have been perfectly comfortable simply hugging him and dozing off in the cozy embrace right there.

Vision continued in a lilting voice and with an added shimmy that brought the two of you directly to the front door. “They’d love to see you, you know.”

They? Your brows furrowed a bit, then rolled your eyes. Oh, Wanda plus baby.

Still, you steeled your resolve and leaned away from him. He looked at you like he was a puppy that had been kicked, to which you responded with a faux scowl. “Mr. Vision Maximoff, I said I was going bring my tools, and [Y/N] is no flake. Besides,” you paused as your scowl melted into a smile, “I don’t want to get dirt and grime all over the new room. It’ll only take a minute; you act like we can’t see each other through our living room windows if we wanted to.”

Making his last attempt, Vision leaned into your arms, which were now around his own, and pressed his cheek against your temple. Still pouting, he muttered, “It only took Wanda and I going around a few times before we moved in together.”

The idea of you living under the same roof as your couple and their new baby made you giddy as much as it made you feel like you wanted to throw yourself into a lit fire pit to save yourself from embarrassment.

“Ah, yes, a spectacle to behold,” you said as you leaned away again, “A new baby and a new roommate!” You saw Vision open his mouth to speak, no doubt to respond with a quip, and quickly continued, disentangling yourself from him as you did, “Gotta skitty, I’ll be back momentarily!”

“Well,” Vision replied, dragging out the last consonant as if you were going to change your mind if he did so long enough; when you didn’t, he huffed a bit. “Alright then. Hurry back!”

You gave him a smile and two-fingered salute then bounded down the steps and back across the street. You only stopped once on the quick trip back home and that was to give Bernard another swift kick, which somehow lodged the bird the rest of the way into the ground, and a “Fuck you, Bernard!” You heard sputtering laughter from across the street that made you grin as you marched inside to change and grab your toolkit.

The tools were the easy part; they had been sitting out on the table in your dining area since last night when you’d originally suggested the idea so you were sure to not forget them. It took a bit longer to struggle your way out of your clothes, especially while simultaneously trotting to the bathroom to wash your hands and splash water on your face. It took longer still to jog back to your bedroom without slamming yourself into an end table or plant along the way and then also go through every piece of clothes you owned; when bright colors and eccentric outfits came into style, you were, for once, ahead of the fashion game with your regular closet, and your wardrobe only continued to grow as the rest of the country’s interest in the style did. You were particularly interested in peacock fashion and it showed in your array of ruffled, brightly colored, and loudly patterned shirts and blouses.

Of these blouses, you threw on one in a burnt orange and yellow paisley pattern, choosing one without ruffles in fear of ripping them while working. You paired the shirt with matching yellow walk-shorts that ended just above your knees and a pair of honey-brown clog sandals whose color made you think of Vision’s outfit. Thinking about this further, you decided to accent your ensemble with a touch of blue, wrapping your hair that was still damp with sweat back with a satin scarf that was a vibrant blue and some handmade jewelry pieces in the same color to match. Finally, you added a woven belt and, after looking in the mirror for a moment, decided to tie your blouse off an inch above the waist of your shorts instead of tucking it in before booking it back across the street.

Standing at the door of your couple’s house, you took a final glance at yourself in the reflection of one of their windows before knocking. You let yourself in after Wanda invited you with a holler through the door and you were greeted with the interesting sight of Wanda, in all her stunning, colorful, mother-to-be glory standing by the long dark-wood dining table; Vision, half-hidden behind her belly that seemed significantly larger than the last time you saw her, was taking an awkward knee while holding up a variety of fruits.

“I’m never not uniquely surprised when I walk into this house,” you said mostly to yourself and you made your way over. Reaching Wanda, you sat your bag of tools on the floor by her feet and gave her a gentle hug. “Hey, sunshine, you’re looking foxy.”

You certainly had gotten a lot more comfortable with them recently.

Wanda visibly blushed, giving you one of her signature fake irritated looks—a tilted head with tight-knit brows and tight lips that broke into a smile less than a second later—and lightly swatted your arm before carefully returning the hug. “Hey sunshine yourself. Look at you, you’re glowing! And those threads, you’re a regular Casanova.”

She made a point of eyeing your partially exposed midriff and you almost blushed—but not quite.

“Glowing,” you repeated, playfully patting your face, “I’m not even the pregnant one! Thank you, though. Some of the colors were inspired.” You took your turn eyeing her, particularly the bright red of her striped dress that was a common color in her palette, then you caught Vision’s bright blue gaze as he stood and placed a couple of fruits back in their rightful place in the basket on the table. You moved to Wanda’s other side to help him. “Why the fruit?”

“Oh, well, the doctor said it helps the mothers keep track of the baby’s progress.” Vision explained. He added another fruit to the basket’s tower, although he was giving the last one in his hand an odd look.

“What he actually said was,” Wanda added, grasping your shoulder and tugging you over two put an arm around your waist and give you mildly strained look, “it helps make things ‘simple’ for us ‘little ladies.’”

You recognized the glint in her eye and nodded understandingly. “Well that’s mildly condescending, must’ve been just groovy.”

“Out of sight,” Wanda agreed in the same tone. She then looked in Vision’s direction with raised brows; you followed her gaze and saw the man toying with the large green fruit in his hand. “Hey, honey? What’cha doin’?”

Vision met both of your equally puzzled gazes with barely contained glee. Voice tight from holding back a giggle, he raised the fruit and pointed at it. “I can’t wait… to be… a proud… papa-ya.”

Wanda looked amused at the future father’s pun and Vision grinned, clearly happy with the reaction. You actually laughed before quickly throwing up a hand to cover the titter.

“Well, that just proves it,” you said after composing yourself even though your company seemed perfectly pleased with your reaction to the joke, “you’re going to be a wonderful one. Look at you, turning into a proper one already.”

Vision went from smiling to flusteredly chewing at his lip quite quickly; he would always get easily flustered but never enough to blush. Instead, he’d twist his head a certain way and rub his neck and shoulder, maybe even avoid eye contact if he was embarrassed enough. He’d always tug his bottom lip between his teeth too, something you couldn’t help finding just a touch more endearing than the other mannerisms; at least it gave you a much more rational reason to stare at his lips for longer than generally accepted.

“You really think so?” he asked.

You scoffed as you moved to pick up your tools again. “Of course, you and Wanda will make absolutely stellar parents. The two of you are more prepared now than I’ve seen some people after they’ve already had the kids. Now,” you paused as you stood up straight and looked at your couple with a cheerful smile, “shall we head to the nursery?”

You were partially convinced that you had been invited solely to help Vision wrangle his wife. You certainly hadn’t been invited to help decorate; even pregnant, Wanda made faster work of your tools than you did. You were huffing while maneuvering a rocking chair in the room and by the time you got it settled in the corner, Wanda had already pieced together the changing stand that was to sit next to it. You turned to grab a tool to open the cans of paint only to turn back around and see all of them opened and Wanda with a brush in hand, painting away. You managed to get the crib up before she could get her hands on it but when you looked around for the yellow mattress and bumper cushions, you looked up to find Wanda already putting on the finishing touches.

Now, you were kneeling on the ground by the crib and painting a delicately rendered stork while Vision was getting to his feet after reading all the reasons Wanda should be resting instead of doing what she was doing, which was pulling a mobile of colorful plastic butterflies out of a box and shifting ever so closer to a stool so she could hang it.

“Darling,” Vision tried, shifting ever so closer to her, “you should probably sit down.”

“You really should,” you offered your help, almost half-heartedly because you already knew the outcome before she said it.

“Don’t be silly,” Wanda assured him, “all I feel is excitement, happiness, and— huhnf! Oh!”

You were on your feet and spun around to give her a wide-eyed stare before her gasp even finished, but instead of pain or worry, Wanda’s face was lit up with wonder as the hand not grasping a plate fluttered around her stomach. Vision also moved quickly, to step forward and pressed his hand on her stomach.

He breathed, “Kicking already?” and they shared an excited stare.

You stared awkwardly from the side with a paintbrush in hand, feeling more out of place you’ve ever had in your life.

Until Wanda, without missing a single beat, turned her head in your direction and grinned. “[Y/N], you have to feel this!” Then she spoke to Vision, “Oh, it’s such a strange sensation, it’s kinda fluttery!”

She was breathtaking. Then her nose scrunched up and she giggled in a way that could also be described as fluttery, and you were wondering in which states polygamy was legal and where was the best jeweler to get a ring.

Still, you were trying to refrain from overstepping boundaries.

“Oh, I don’t know…” you mumbled, shifting your weight from foot to foot and glancing around the room. You noticed the mobile she had been retrieving the last time you’d looked at her was already hung up above the crib; of course, it was.

Wanda scoffed and made a gesture at Vision, then he was walking over and coaxing you to her side with an encouraging nuzzle to your temple.

“I just don’t want—” you started.

“To overstep, we know,” Wanda finished, the giddy look on her face replaced with a scowl. “Trust me, this is probably the one and only time I’ll ask for someone to feel my stomach while everyone else in the town just does it willy-nilly and besides, you are a part of— Oh!”

Her gasp and glance over your shoulder, combined with the sound of movement behind you was enough to make you turn your head, only for Vision to catch your attention in the opposite direction.

“Another kick!” he exclaimed, just a little too loud. You thought you caught his gaze flitting over in the same direction as Wanda’s but then he was grasping your wrist and placing your hand against Wanda’s stomach. At the same time, his arm that was hovering politely around your back pressed against the naked small of your back as he pulled you closer into the little triangle of space you, Wanda, and he made; the sudden heat there made your blood boil in the best way and when his hand accidentally caught on the hem of your shorts and dipped a little lower over the fabric, you choked while sucking in a breath.

Vision’s hands flew up to the sky and he scrambled away, apologizing profusely. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hands fluttering around, could imagine his eyes doing the same, and you were vaguely aware of Wanda moving at your other side, the fabric of her sleeve brushing against yours as she waved her arm. You also heard a sound that you chalked up to being a breeze coming from the open window and rustling the drawn curtains. You, usually the final piece of the chaotic puzzle, were instead staring down and softly gasping as the sudden tap against your palm.

“I felt it,” you whispered and the chaos that was happening around you seemed to still in the same moment as Wanda and Vision settled back around you to feel themselves. You repeated the phrase, brushing your thumb across the patch of clothed skin, and the baby responded with another kick a moment later. You couldn’t help looking up at Wanda a face frozen in almost childish wonder, and state the obvious, “You’re gonna have a baby.”

Wanda nodded at you with shining eyes and a wet smile. She wrapped her free arm around her midsection and looked back down on her belly. The expression on her face radiated an intense, loving tenderness and you felt a billion non-plastic butterflies make a comfortable home in your chest.

You followed her gaze and felt your face break into a grin so wide that your cheeks started to hurt almost immediately. Your hand, along with Wanda’s own and Vision’s, created a loose but ever so protective triangular shield over the place where you had felt your first baby kick, promising to move the universe for them should it ever be required. Despite the overlapping mess of fingers, you noticed how Vision’s hand was the perfect size to envelop your own and that even with a ring on one of them, Wanda’s fingers fit perfectly in the spaces between yours.

The nervousness and insecurities that seemed to bounce around your head whenever you observed your couple, in their perfect world with their perfect dynamics, melted away in the comfortable warmth that came from your trio’s cozy huddle. This wasn’t a story about you or them separately but the three of you together and it was a wonderful one in the making.

Then, “Oh.”

Wanda looked up at her husband and echoed, “Oh.”

You looked up second, adding your own questioning “Oh?” before your gaze settled on the butterfly lightly perched on the tip of Vision’s nose. “Oh!” Watching the monarch’s delicate wings fluttering, you were surprised he hadn’t already sneezed.

“Hello, little fella,” Vision softly said. He was the first to separate your group, stepping away and leaning down a bit for your and Wanda’s better viewing. His smile was blinding for the brief moment you caught it, before tilting your head away to snicker at the way his eyes were crossing to view his insect passenger.

Wanda gently coaxed the butterfly onto her fingertip and walked over to the window to release it. That’s when you noticed a group of the bug type coalesced around the same area; the sudden visit from Mother Nature must have been what she had seen earlier.

“Oh, my,” you said, “that’s something you don’t see every day.”

The smile on Wanda’s face tightened for just a moment as her gaze jumped around the baby room, then relaxed as she maneuvered the various colorful butterflies outside. “Bringing good vibes, hopefully. They must have been enticed by the mobile; why, they even tried to free their plastic friends!”

You looked towards the crib curiously and saw that the mobile hanging above it was only a series of transparent hanging strings. Walking over, you found the butterflies that had once been attached to it scattered around the mattress. You picked a couple of them up and carefully pinched the thin material between your fingers. “Hm, strong butterflies.”

“Clearly,” Vision agreed. He walked over to the rocking chair he had been sitting and reading baby books earlier and picked up his most recent read.

Meanwhile, you began gathering up the scattered butterflies, then climbed up the nearby stool to retrieve the rest of the mobile. “You wouldn’t happen to have a good adhesive laying around, would you? I can have this fixed up and rehung lickity-split.”

“Not laying around but I’m sure there’s one in the cabinet under the sink.” Vision seemed to find the page he was looking for. He glanced over the words, tensed up immediately after, and paced over to Wanda’s side as she shut the window. “If that was first kick, that puts you at about six months! Why I can’t keep up!”

Has it been that long already? You silently wondered as you made your way over to the exit, careful not to crush any of the delicate pieces you were holding. While Vision was thinking in terms of babies, you were surprised that you had already been dating him and his wife for almost half of a year.

In a signature dad-to-be fashion, Vision waggled his head down to give Wanda and the baby a kiss. Then he said in an equally identifiable dad’s voice, “Please don’t misinterpret. I can’t wait you meet you, little Billy!”

You leaned against the doorframe as you offered Wanda an amused look; you had been previously graced with the conversation of baby names and Billy wasn’t exactly on her roster.

“Billy?” she questioned, to which Vision gave a smile and an affirming noise. Wanda continued, “Well I was thinking Tommy. Just a nice, classic American name.”

Vision gave an exaggerated, head tilting nod that suggested a mild disagreement. Then the higher-pitched tone he took when he replied confirmed it. “Hm, Tommy! Hm, mm… then there’s Billy, isn’t there? Named after William Shakespeare, all the world’s a stage, all the men and women many players!”

Wanda went to speak but you beat her to it. “You’re sure it’s a boy, then?”

Your partner seemed mildly embarrassed as she turned her attention to you. “Strong intuition?”

You offered casually, not thinking about your lack of say in the matter, “What about Victor? Vin? Little Vinny’s certainly a cute nickname.” Almost immediately after you finished, it was your turn to be the embarrassed one. You stumbled over your words a bit as you started to apologize, only to falter when you saw both Vision and Wanda’s gleeful stares.

“Well, those are wonderful names too,” Wanda assured you, clearly pleased you had chimed in, “but I’m not hoping for quadruplets. I guess we’ll need the next best thing— A girl.”

Your shoulders relaxed from their hunched places that you hadn’t noticed they took. You chuckled and strolled out the door, throwing a couple more ideas over your shoulder, “Vivian! Virginia! Nadia!”

Vision’s voice floated after you as you walked to the kitchen. “Ooh, Vivian’s quite good…”

When you returned to the bedroom with good-as-new mobile in hand, only final touches needed to be added to the nursery, and Wanda and Vision’s excitement over the baby’s coming was suddenly amped up to eleven. The two were pacing around and frantically listing off the all things that they had left to do or buy. It was a very drastic change from the casual playfulness that you had experienced between them earlier, as the new parents were keeping themselves—and you—busy with a thousand new tasks. Eventually, Vision had a list about as long as he was tall of every bottle, diaper, blanky, binky, children’s book, and stuffed animal that they had yet to get.

Deciding you were now the more sane member of the group, you decided to take the list and go shopping for them; if you didn’t, Vision may have been swept up in the baby section of a clothing store and never return. That’s how you ended up where you were now, at the front of an ever-growing line of department store customers, waiting anxiously as the workers tried to get the lights back on and the cash register back in working order.

You rapped your fingernails on the countertop—not intentionally, just out of worry about how your parents-to-be were managing at home—and glanced from your bloated shopping cart to the cashier, who was talking quietly with a manager then back several times. You were antsy about being stuck in a store when you were much useful elsewhere and being concerned about whether you were making the cashier uncomfortable with your mannerisms, for they were probably three times as unsettled as you were, wasn’t doing anything but adding on to the stress.

Finally, the cashier turned back to you and the rest of the shoppers and announced, “Good news, everybody! The register is still down but it’s a quick switch to manual; we’ll have each and every one of you checked out and on your ways home soon!”

A cheer erupted around you but you were too frazzled to join in.

“Unfortunately,” the cashier continued as the noise died down, “we’re not the only store experiencing this. It’s the whole town.”

While the crowd’s disappointed “Aww” only appeared mildly disgruntled, you went rigid and your mind began racing, all thoughts revolving around a particular household.

One random thought of wondering What if Wanda went into labor right now? had the hair on your arms sticking straight up.

You slammed your hand down on the counter, spooking both the cashier and yourself.

“Ma’am,” you started, then paused to quickly apologize for your rudeness before continuing, “I need you to check me out as fast as humanly possible; I think my—” Wife seemed way out of line but girlfriend felt too out of place. “—pah-art-ner’s having a baby.”

You were struggling to your car with a small mountain of baby items in the arms in a matter of minutes, mentally kicking yourself for being bad at talking the entire way there. You threw your bags in the back, scrambled into the driver’s seat, and were getting ready to pull away from the curb when a ringing from your mobile phone sounded.

“Goddammit,” you huffed. One hand was pulling up an antenna and pressing the technological brick to your ear while the other gripped your steering wheel so hard that your knuckles turned three skin tones lighter. “Yeah, hello?”

“[Y/N]?” Agnes’s voice was a welcome surprise but her worried tone wasn’t.

“No, it’s your husband, I’m on my way home now, dear,” you snarked, then mentally kicked yourself again. “Sorry, that was rude, I’m in a rush. What’s crackin’? Besides the town going into blackout, that is.”

“The neighborhood’s flooded,” Agnes said simply.

You blanched. “I’m sorry?”

“The cul-de-sac? Something’s happened and all the pipes have burst. Mine, Herb’s, Dotty’s, everyone’s!”

How on earth the day’s mood has changed so quickly, you had no idea. What you did know is that you desperately had to get back to Wanda’s side, your house be damned.

“Thanks, ‘Nes, good to know,” you hissed through clenched teeth. You rested your phone between your ear and shoulder as you put both hands on the wheel and started driving.

“Do you want me to do anything?” Agnes asked; her voice sounded as frazzled as you and the rest of Westview looked. “Go over to your place, grab anything important?”

You huffed out a sigh as your car flew around a corner. “Agnes, you know I adore you, but I really, really have to go.”

“[Y/N]—”

You hung up and tossed the shoe-sized device in the passenger’s seat.

Vision met you on the curb as you were parking your car and he had the doctor from earlier that day in tow, now dressed in vacationing attire and very seeming very underprepared. Within a few words and as if you had accidentally wished it into existence back at the department store, you were informed that Wanda was in fact about to have little Billy or Tommy or who-have-you. Of course, this messy day would come to a peak in such a way.

The taller man was half-escorting, half-hauling both you and the doctor to the door, and the bags in the backseat of your car were completely forgotten as concern chewed away at your insides. Loud, strained sounds coming from inside only added onto it.

As the three of you reached the front door, Vision flung it open and pressed the doctor inside. Then he grabbed your wrist and began tugging you in after himself.

You couldn’t help your feet freezing to the concrete. “Vis, are you sure?”

The distress on his face softened just slightly and he pressed the back of your hand to his lips. “Of course we are.” Then he wrapped an arm around you and properly, albeit quickly, brought you into his and Wanda’s home—

—where Wanda was laying on the floor, panting and shimmering with sweat and holding a baby wrapped in a blue and white dishtowel while Geraldine perched awkwardly over her.

You and Vision shared a bug-eyed look before Vision’s turned into one of sadness. You wanted so badly to hug him and tell him it was alright but he was already releasing you and slowly walking over; you trailed a couple of steps after him.

“Oh no,” he murmured, “I missed it?” However, when he took a look at Wanda’s softly smiling face and their happily cooing baby, whatever brief grief he was experiencing was replaced by a proud smile and new fatherly glow.

“Hey, doc,” Geraldine spoke suddenly, “why don’t you help me out in the kitchen there?” She nodded in your direction as well.

You wondered why she was there, in Wanda’s home or Westview, at all. The idea made your stomach flip but you just couldn’t place why.

The only response the doctor gave was blubbering about speeding as she took his arm and led him away. You began to follow when Vision stopped you with a gentle tug on your arm.

“No, [Y/N],” he said, “it’s alright. Stay and come see.”

You didn’t even think as you smiled and took his hand. You took a glance towards the kitchen to make sure the other company was occupied, then kissed the back of his hand as he had done only a moment earlier. Squeezing it and letting it drop, you responded, “Go say hello to your baby. I’ll always be here.”

Given the current situation, Vision wasn’t up for arguing much. He gave you a quick peck on the temple before gingerly making his way over to where Wanda rested happily on the living room floor.

You made your way to the kitchen, where you slumped against the kitchen counter as exhaustion overtook you. You were close enough to both parties to hear Geraldine’s blatant attempts at distracting the doctor to your left and Vision and Wanda’s cozy rumblings to your right, but too out of sorts to make out anything tangible. You didn’t realize until now how badly your feet ached from the combination of gardening, decorating, and running around and how your outfit had lost its cute playfulness in place of wrinkles and feeling slightly damp from sweat. You were sure you were looking more worse for wear than Wanda, despite Wanda having had a baby, but when you thought about it for more than a second or two, you felt like you wouldn’t trade the day for any other in the world.

Especially when thinking about that cutie patootie, you thought with a tired smile. He’s gonna have such good parents. Such a good life.

Suddenly, your train of thought was stopped by the sound of Wanda yelling and your whole body jerked in her direction, energetic as ever.

Wanda was going into labor a second time, you could see easily see. Something somehow more surprising was going on in the living area, though, and that something was Vision’s skin. While he still wore his regular clothes, that was the only normal thing about him. Instead of light skin, his flesh was a deep red and you weren’t even sure it could be called skin; it looked more… mechanical than that, with symmetrical lines etched into some places and silver plating covering others. Instead of a full head of wavy hair, he had none, and his ears and parts of his bald skull were also covered in silver. Silver came to a peak at the top of his forehead and at the end of it was a golden gem.

Vision was holding his baby and yelling along with Wanda as she began pushing a second time. He happened to glance up and catch your bewildered eye and then he started yelling because of you.

You stood frozen in place, not sure what to do until you heard a commotion behind you.

“Well, what’s going on now?” Geraldine started.

Your brain kicked back into full gear and thinking quickly and somewhat stupidly, you yelled and pointed in the opposite direction, “Jeepers creepers, is that a stork?” You couldn’t imagine why your poor attempt at a distraction worked but you considered it a success as Geraldine and the still-disoriented doctor’s attention settled elsewhere. Not missing a beat, you grabbed another cloth from the kitchen and raced to Wanda and Vision’s aid, skidding to a halt on your knees.

“[Y/N],” Vision said, though nothing else followed. He stared at you in pure shock, mouth flapping and the bright blue irises of his eyes twisting and shifting like a camera lens as he looked at you. Still, his body worked despite his befuddled mind as he took the cloth you handed him and offered you a newborn baby to hold instead.

“[Y/N],” Wanda gasped through her current endeavor. When you dragged your head to look at her, she was staring at you with a clenched jaw and equally wide eyes, which were filled with a mixture of surprise, horror, and… relief? Then she was screaming and pushing again, eyes squeezed shut, and her hand flew to your own.

You grabbed it and held on tight, even when her fingernails dug in enough to leave marks for days. While a red and silver-skinned Vision handled the delivery like a champ—a bugged out, stammering, robotic champ who couldn’t figure out whether he should be looking at you, his wife, or the baby he was helping into the world but a champ nonetheless—you switched between offering encouraging words to the tiring new mother and cooing calmly at the newborn swaddled and resting cozily in the crook of your arm. Soon enough, Wanda was slumping back into the pillow behind her head and Vision was sitting back on his haunches with another quiet baby snuggled against his chest; your taut muscles sagged and the exhaustion you hit in the kitchen came rushing back.

You made sure Wanda was lucid enough to take her baby back and carefully transferred from your arms to hers. It was only after he was safely in his mother’s grasp that you were able to fully relax, tossing an arm around Vision’s shoulders and leaning heavily against him while you shook out your other hand, which was red and covered in deep, crescent moon-shaped marks.

“So,” you puffed, “Billy and Tommy?”

Wanda’s tired face lit up as she nodded her head towards her baby. “Tommy.”

Vision, who was leaning on you as much as you were on him—something in the back of your head noted that the two of you held each other very well and that something sent a little pang of affection straight to your pounding heart—used his turn to nuzzle the forehead of the baby he held and grumble in a half British, half baby-talk accent, “Billy.”

You hummed while stretching a hand down to give Billy a very ginger boop on the nose; he didn’t seem to mind. Then you said, “Vinny and Vivian will just have to be next time.”

Your group shuddered with a mess of tired, soft laughter. Then you began to relax further but as the excitement of childbirth began to wear off, you a new variation of tension settling into your couple. The new parents were sharing increasingly worried looks and if they were communicating telepathically, and it was then that you remembered that the man sitting next to you was for less human than you’d previously made him out to be.

The realization seemed to hit him at almost the same time because his head swung to look at you just as you had turned to observe his new appearance. On his robotic face—was robotic even the word; was he a robot?—was an expression of outright fear but also something that looked like he was mentally being torn in two different directions. He went to speak several times—his mouth and teeth looked the same, perfect and familiar—only to verbally scramble and backtrack, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders since his hands were too occupied to scratch his neck. Finally, he appeared to get himself in order and he started, “[Y/N], I can— we can explain—”

You ran your hand over his scalp and down to rest at the base of his neck; the silver plating felt like metal, while the thick red epidermis was warm and softer to the touch. Not only warm but damp from exertion, and pulsing softly to some form of a heartbeat where you ran a finger over a common pulse point.

While your mental energy was rapidly declining, you still managed to quip at the man, “As much as loved the idea of running my fingers through your hair, I think I prefer this over that awful cut that’s in style right now.”

That left Vision dumbfounded and silent, his mouth flopping open and closed like a fish out of water. On your other side, who had been otherwise quiet and already snoozing as far as you were concerned, broke into a burst of loud laughter that was music to your ears.

You grinned in response but your muscles were too tired to make it reach your eyes. You shifted over slightly to be closer to Wanda now and brushed your thumb over little Tommy’s cheek before resting doing a similar action to his mother’s. Wanda relaxed her head against your palm and the way she looked up at you from under her lashes made you do mental gymnastics about the ethics of blurting out the L-word then and there.

Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last much longer because then Geraldine’s voice floated over from the kitchen, getting louder as she and the doctor made their way back from the wild stork chase you sent them on. You quickly looked to Vision, only to see him looking as human as the day you first met him, and noted the sad little string you got from seeing simple blue irises instead of the intricately shifting blue ones that swirled mechanically as he focused on something. It only lasted a moment, though, before you and your trio were busy readjusting yourselves into what you considered normal poses but in reality, probably made the three of you look much more awkward than you previously had.

You’d just finished settling as Geraldine and her companion walked into the living room and, thinking tiredly and definitely stupidly, you blurted, “Jeepers creepers, another baby!”

“Twenty fingers and twenty toes, you’ve got two healthy baby boys on your hands.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Wanda responded as the man handed Billy back to her. Vision stood watchfully next to her, holding Tommy.

You poked your head up from behind the second crib you were finishing assembling and as the doctor turned to thank Geraldine for her delivery help, you said to the Maximoff couple, “And a second crib all ready to go. If they’re not fans of sleeping separately, let me know and we can exchange the ones you have for one big one.”

Wanda held out her hand to you as you stood and you walked over to hold it only briefly as she thanked you before leaning over and crooning at Billy and Tommy in turn. You were in the company of others, after all, and there had been enough excitement for one day without revealing your polyamorous relationship to a neighbor and a random doctor.

It was weird how different the energy felt standing with them now than it had earlier just that day alone. Things still felt new and strange but you no longer felt like a separate unit from the household you were standing in or the people standing and smiling oh so sweetly at you. Then again, maybe that’s just what being involved in the arrival of an unexpected set of twins and making a superhuman discovery about one of your partners did to all blossoming romantic triads in the seventies.

Speaking of the doctor, as he began to finish up chatting with Geraldine, Vision beckoned you closer, and after getting an okay to do so, he carefully laid the baby he held in your arms. He gave Tommy a nuzzle and a light tap on the nose, then straightened up and headed towards the door.

He said to the other man, “Allow me to walk you out, doctor.”

“Oh, alright,” the doctor responded with an odd quiver in his voice. Said quiver was confirmed to be restlessness, which you had no doubt was attached to some sort of superhuman business Vision had involved him in when picking him up, when he continued, “As long as we actually walk this time?”

You would definitely have to delve into the mystery of Vision’s sometimes inhuman appearance at a later date but at that moment you were remembering how the entire neighborhood’s pipes had burst. The neighborhood of which your house was a part of and an event you were sure you hadn’t been lucky enough to avoid.

“Oh, shi—oot,” you stammered, “I should probably get back to my own pad and save what I can from getting water damage. I haven’t even been home to see how bad everything is.” You provided Tommy with a very important explanation in very serious baby babble terms before placing him in his crib. “I’ll just leave my car on this side of the street and bring the other stuff in sometime later this evening if that’s alright with you, Wanda?”

When you looked at her, she was giving you a confused head tilt. She blinked, then her eyes shot wide open. “Oh, the pipes!” She paused and turned her gaze to the far wall of the living room as if she could see your house through it, then looked back at you with a smile. “Your house should be fine. In fact, I think the entire neighborhood is back intact!”

Something about the way she looked at you assured you that she was right. You wondered whether Vision wasn’t the only one with a unique secret under this roof and if all the strange happenings that had gone on today couldn’t be traced back to Wanda herself.

Not that any of that really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

“I should still go,” you insisted, “You should really rest for a while, and I am a mess for the second time today. Maybe I can pop back over in a little bit?”

Wanda pursed her lips in a subtle doubt before giving in. She nodded and after taking a glance around to make sure the company was occupied, she grasped your hand and leaned in closer. “Come over for dinner tonight. Stay and help us get the babies settled in? We can talk about today.”

“Wanda, you need rest—”

The woman interrupted, a teasing look making her eyes glitter. “Which is why either you or Vision will be doing the cooking! And you know how much I love the man but there’s a reason the only thing he handles in the kitchen is water from the faucet.”

You had to nod in somber agreement at that statement, then sighed and gave Wanda a pout of your own. “Fine. Now, is anyone looking?”

Wanda was smiling triumphantly. She took another quick look around, then shook her head; her silky hair fanned out slightly from its position perfectly framing her head as she did.

You shuffled a little closer and slipped an arm around her waist in an intimate hug. Leaning in, you gave her one quick smooch on the cheek and another on the forehead then mumbled against her skin, “You did amazing.” Another kiss. “And you’re going to be a wonderful mother. Please, though, promise me that you’ll rest, at least for a little bit. The world will not crumble around you if you take one break.”

Wanda, who had immediately leaned into your embrace and giggled as you kissed her, scoffed slightly. She gave you a tight squeeze and murmured back, “I suppose you’re right. Fine, but only because you promised to cook.”

“Well, technically,” you said as you broke away from her, “I only said I’d come over. I can’t wait for Vision to make us burnt water and boiled bacon!”

Wanda stared after you, frozen in a mock gasp. “[Y/N]!”

You grinned and waved before spinning on your heels and trotting over to where Vision was perched, holding the door. “Bye!”

When you got to the door, Vision’s hand played lightly down your back as he followed you outside after the doctor.

“Well, Dr. Nielson,” Vision said, “I hope you’re still able to make your trip.”

The doctor, apparently Dr. Nielson, slowed as he stepped off the porch and onto the sidewalk. He turned towards Vision with a glassy look in his eye that he hadn’t had before but you’ve been seeing more and more often in Westview residents these days. When he talked, his speech became slower as well.

“Ah, yes, about my trip,” he drawled, “I don’t think we’ll get away after all. Small towns, you know. So hard to… escape.”

You frowned, suddenly uneasy. Glancing at Vision, the man just looked confused.

Dr. Nielson’s glassy gaze shifted from Vision to you. He spoke deliberately to you, “Don’t you think, [Y/N]?” Then he blinked, turned, and walked off down the sidewalk.

You weren’t sure exactly why, but you flinched and reeled back. You would have tripped and fallen up the porch if it weren’t for Vision catching you. Then the two of you stood gripping each other and staring as the doctor disappeared around the corner.

You didn’t even realize that your ears had started ringing until the sound began to fade. You started, “Well, that was…”

“Yeah,” Vision said with a slow nod. “Very. Are you alright?”

“Fine, I think.”

“No migraines?”

“No migraines.”

The two of you stood holding each other for a moment longer before you forced your fingers to loosen their death grip on Vision’s jacket. As the two of you relaxed slightly and readjusted yourselves, several questions rushed through your head, like why was that so unnerving and why did the doctor speak directly to you.

How had he known your name?

A particularly sharp pain made your vision swim temporarily but it was gone as soon as it came. Before you think any further on the subject, other voices floated into your range of hearing.

“What is she doing in there?”

“I don’t know.”

You followed the voices with your eyes and found Agnes and Herb talking quietly by the wall Herb had been cutting into earlier; actually, Herb looked like he’d barely moved an inch, still standing in the gap between his wall of shrubs. At least he appeared more lucid, but now he and Agnes were huddled together like they were having a secret meeting. Neither of them noticed you yet.

Vision decided to change that by throwing up a hand and hollering, “Howdy neighbors!”

Agnes spun around so quickly you were wonder if she’d given herself whiplash, but the strained greetings and even more strained expressions that both she and Herb gave were what really piqued your interest.

Well, not so much piqued your interest than their actions gave you a second dose of uneasiness that made your head spin and filled you with a sense of somewhat morbid curiosity.

Then they stuck their heads back together and continued muttering.

“Did you see her go inside?” Agnes questioned.

Herb responded, “She went right in.”

Vision leaned his head closer to yours; he didn’t seem to catch what they were saying. “Do they seem… a little off to you?”

“Just a tad.”

You silently deliberated with each other before casually strolling over.

“Remarkable day we’re having, no?” Vision tried again.

Agnes and Herb looked up again, also trying to look casual but there was something definitely worrisome about their equally strained smiles.

Vision continued, “Did you lose power too?”

You snapped your fingers, joining in. “That’s right! Agnes, you called me about the pipes bursting. I hope nothing got too damaged?”

“Oh, sure did,” Agnes said to Vision, “but Ralph looks better in the dark, so I’m not complaining. And you’re right, I did, [Y/N]! Luckily, everything’s just fine.”

There was an awkward pause and even though you were out in open air, you felt like you were struggling to breathe in a sauna.

Vision said, “Hi, Herb.”

Herb responded, “Heya, buddy.”

More awkward silence.

“Well,” Vision said slowly, lightly clapping his hands together, “I’ll get back to Wanda. [Y/N], you’re heading home?”

“Right,” you affirmed, a little too quickly.

What is going on?

Vision placing his hand on your back brought back some sense of normalcy as he began escorting you to the curb.

“Vision,” Agnes abruptly said halting your exit. You and your partner turned back to her and Herb and she continued after a long-winded pause and adjusting her awkward stance leaning against the low wall, “Is Geraldine inside with Wanda?”

“Yes. Why?”

Herb piped up, “She’s new to town. Brand new.”

Wait, that’s not right. Your brows furrowed and you felt the sting of your own bite as you chewed your bottom lip. You felt pressure in your skull as you tried to recall where you’d previously met the woman, because you knew you had, but trying to do so had a similar feeling to trying to grip water as it rushed through your fingers.

Agnes went on, “There’s no family. No husband.”

You would have scowled, said something in defense of your circumstances of moving to Westview without a family or marriage, but you were too busy trying to clear away the fog that quickly encroaching your headspace. Vision, on the other hand, was able to say something, “Well there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Agnes hummed, gave a half-hearted nod, then steadily met his gaze. “No home.”

Come to think of it, you knew very little about Geraldine. While you were positive that you’d met her before today, you couldn’t for the life of you place what she did for work, when she first appeared in Westview, what house in the cul-de-sac she lived in—

You could list off the names of everyone who lived in your neighborhood. Geraldine wasn’t one of them.

Your brain felt like it could expand and explode from the intense pressure at any moment but the dread pooling in the pit of your stomach from the idea of not being able to retrieve memories bothered you far more. You couldn’t bring yourself to push the thoughts away and instead mentally leaned into the pain. The harder you pushed, the more pressure pushed back, as if you were fighting against an invisible barrier that was barring you from your own memories.

At the same time, you attempted to keep yourself grounded by staying tuned into the conversation at hand. Vision asked Agnes what she meant by Geraldine having no home and Herb kept stumbling over the same beginning of a sentence—She came here because… She came here because… She came here because we’re all…—like he was a record on a broken player that just wouldn’t let him get out what he wanted to say.

Vision tried to urge him on. “She came here because what? What are trying to tell me?”

With Agnes and Herb bickering briefly about whether or not to tell Vision whatever it was they had been speaking about, Vision completely tuned into them, and you fighting to remember things without succumbing to your migraines, you had an underlying feeling of being out of place. You’ve felt out of place before, of course, but this was something different and weird and wrong. Your entire perfect—but not so much, you were gradually learning—little town suddenly seemed like it was out of place in its state, its country, its world, its reality. Out of nowhere, Westview felt like it was trapped in a claustrophobic little bubble that wouldn’t let anyone escape and the longer anyone was here, the warped things would become—

A memory came rushing back of a black and white talent show and a smashed mirror and an arm oozing blood and color and Geraldine was there but she was an eerie Geraldine, out of place and time and reality and asking if you knew who she was or who you were and you didn’t know the answer and then Wanda and Vision appeared and everything was okay again, and now the name Monica throbbed against the base of your neck and the air around you radiated electricity and it was itchy and no one around you was noticing anything and instead of darkness, a weird bright light was tinging the edges of your vision white and—

There was a crash coming from the house and none of the people standing next to you were any the wiser but even though you felt like you were swimming through honey while doing it, you turned just in time to see a portion of a nearby wall explode as something shot out from inside and continued flying until it disappeared into the distance. Then there was a sound similar to a sonic boom that followed and a wave of nausea crashed over you as the electric air rippled and distorted right before your eyes, and then you could see the dome of TV static-looking energy that encapsulated your town and the dome seemed to peak directly above the Maximoff house.

Your ears rang. Your mouth flapped open closed but you couldn’t force a single word out. You looked around and everyone else in your group seemed trapped in a strained conversation that they couldn’t escape from if they wanted to.

You didn’t so much walk as you floated over to the gaping hole in the side of your couple’s house, or at least, that’s what it felt like as the ground grew soft and wobbly under your feet and you swayed as you moved. You reached the hole and peered through it, then waved aimlessly when you saw Wanda staring wide-eyed at you from a couple of demolished rooms away. She said or mouthed something—she’s sorry? Why?—but you couldn’t tell which it was over the thrumming of your own pulse in your ears. You cocked your head, more out of curiosity than confusion, then blinked and stared glassy-eyed as the hole in the house reversed itself.

“Huh,” you said dumbly as the last brick fell back into place. “Cool.”

Then your body felt as if it were slammed back onto very hard, solid ground and that’s because it was. You weren’t sure if you whined or groaned or screamed as you collapsed to the ground, succumbing to your worst migraine yet.

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haus-seeblick · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 1! “Harvest”

My first ficlet for Suptober! Read under the cut :)

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,218

Tags: Fluff, Disaster Bi Dean Winchester, Daydreaming about hot farmers, Some suggestive language (and swearing), Angelic wheat harvest assistance, The Dom Brow makes an appearance, Sam Ships It, Mini Case Fic

On AO3 here.

“All right,” Dean announces as he stomps into the hospital room, trailing mud with every step. “You’re not gonna have a problem anymore, Randy.”

The man propped up on the hospital bed cushions glares at Dean from under bushy eyebrows. “Well, it’s about time,” he snaps. “First these-- these things terrorize my fields for weeks, then y’all show up and are so useless that they maim me after you’re already on the case, and now I’ve lost the prime window to harvest a year’s worth o’ growth ‘cause I’m laid up in this godforsaken facility. So don’t you tell me I ain’t gonna have a problem anymore.”

Dean sinks down onto the rickety plastic chair next to the bed, moving gingerly to avoid jostling his (probably) dislocated shoulder, courtesy of some extremely vengeful spirits. He fixes Randy with an even gaze.

“Man, I’m sorry about your leg. I am. The spirits had a wider range than we thought and we figured you’d be safe at the house.”

Randy snorts in obvious derision, his scruffy mustache fluttering comically. Dean presses on.

“But, we’ve put them to rest. Your great-grandparents aren’t gonna give you any more grief.” Even if the rest of your family did totally fuck them over.

He stands again, awkwardly, and pats Randy’s good knee. “Sorry about your harvest, though. Can anyone help out? Neighbors? Friends?”

Randy glowers. “I ain’t takin’ no charity.”

Dean quirks his lips and nods. “Right. Take it easy, Randy.” He leaves the still-grumbling farmer behind, following his own trail of mud back down the hallway. A tall janitor lurking around the corner sends him a death glare and Dean tries for an appropriately apologetic smile.

It’s been a real headache of a night.

The pair of spirits haunting Randy Johnson’s wheat fields ended up being way more pissed off than Sam, Dean, and Cas had anticipated. By the time Cas located the heavy brass key to the farmhouse that was apparently tethering the property-line-obsessed spirits to the material plane, Dean and Sam were long out of rock salt. In their retreat, they’d ended up waist-deep in a pebbly creek, splashing and wobbling as they beat off the screeching spirits with crowbars. Dean has an unfortunately-placed boulder to thank for his dislocated shoulder -- he went down hard and clumsy just as Cas reappeared next to the stream, the old key melting dramatically in the bright glow of his palm.

The spirits burned away in a shower of sparks, along with Dean’s dignity.

To top it all off, Dean drew the short straw to go tell Randy the case was closed, and he may have stomped off in a sulky huff before thinking of asking Cas or Sam to put his shoulder right.

Oh, well. At least it’s dealt with. One more night in their more-stained-than-usual motel room, and first thing in the morning they’ll get the hell outta Dodge (almost literally - they’re up in Osborne County).

Dean thinks of a bright July morning on the open road and sighs in relief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He doesn’t get his wish.

“I just feel bad, Dean!” Sam protests as Dean gesticulates incredulously at him. (His shoulder was very pleasantly healed by Cas the night before, and if Dean noticed that Cas’ warm hands lingered a little longer on his skin than was technically necessary for a cursory dislocation repair, he didn’t mention it.)

“God, Sammy, yeah, it sucks about the guy’s leg, but maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole to everyone he knows, somebody’d help him out! It’s not-- it can’t be our problem.”

Sam crosses his arms stubbornly. “It’s not about Randy. His fields are part of a huge supply that feeds a ton of people. Do you want people to go hungry, Dean?”

Castiel chooses that moment to materialize directly next to Dean, his nose inches away from Dean’s cheek. He’s holding two steaming cups of coffee and Dean immediately grabs one. Cas squints and tilts his head. “Why does Dean want people to go hungry?”

“Oh my god.” Dean throws his free hand up. “Fine. Fucking fine. We’ll find someone who’s willing to plow the dude’s fields. That’ll be easy.”

Sam opens his big mouth, probably to say something about having faith in humanity, but Cas beats him to it. Still planted firmly in Dean’s bubble, he sends a puff of warm air against Dean’s face as he speaks.

“Oh. I can do it.”

Dean and Sam both look at him. Dean shuffles back a couple steps and wills his eyes away from the guy’s lips. He really spends too much time staring at them.

“Um--” Sam clears his throat. “You can harvest Randy’s wheat?”

“I can plow, yes.” Cas nods firmly. Dean’s first sip of coffee comes spraying back out. He pounds his chest and wheezes.

“Like-- like-- with a combine?”

Cas furrows his brow. “Is that a machine? No, I don’t require machinery. This is a very basic task.”

“Plowing,” Dean says weakly.

“Harvesting,” Cas corrects, tilting his chin down and narrowing his eyes. “Humans have been doing it for a very long time. I used to help, now and again. I can’t imagine the process has changed much.”

Sam slaps his thighs as he stands up from his bed. “Well! Look at that, Dean. Cas doesn’t want people to go hungry.”

Dean flips him off, but it lacks the usual heat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, they find themselves on the edge of a vast, lazily undulating expanse of gold. They’d skirted the north edge of the field extensively while working the spirit case, since the activity was strongest there along the creek, but in his single-minded focus Dean hadn’t really paid much attention to the field itself.

It’s big. Like, squint-into-the-distance-and-you-can’t-see-the-end big.

“You’re really gonna plow all that?” Dean asks, glancing at Cas. The morning sun is turning the tips of Cas’ hair a chestnut gold.

“I will cut down the stalks, separate the grain from the chaff, and deposit the edible grain into a large truck, which apparently takes it where it needs to go,” Cas says matter-of-factly. “I visited Randy early this morning to make sure I knew which truck it was.”

Sam laughs. “Oh yeah? How’d good old Randy take that?”

“He seemed dubious,” Cas says. “And rude. I assured him that despite his unsavory attitude, he would come home to harvested fields.”

“Very angelic of you,” Sam remarks.

“So how’s this gonna go?” Dean lifts a hand to block out the steadily-rising sun. “You gonna be flapping back and forth? Probably not smart to let the locals clock an angel doing the harvest.”

Cas arches an eyebrow at him, somehow gazing down at Dean despite being an inch shorter. “I don’t flap, Dean. I may have wings, but their movement in the ether is beyond your comprehension.”

Dean rolls his eyes and turns his face away in a show of studying the field to the north, but mostly to conceal the flush of his cheeks in response to that eyebrow.

For Christ's sake, keep it together, Winchester.

“I can’t explain to you how it will look,” Cas continues, oblivious. “You’ll just have to watch. Anything you see will be for your eyes only. I guarantee no locals will ‘clock me.’”

Dean looks back just in time to see the tail end of the finger quotes. Cas is staring right at him, that damn eyebrow still up, a subtle challenge, daring Dean to make a move.

Maybe not so oblivious. Asshole.

Dean smiles sweetly and gestures at the wheat. “All right then. Have at it, buddy. Show us what you’ve got.”

With no further ado, Cas is gone. Dean’s left staring through the previously-Cas-occupied space at his brother, who’s grimacing with an air of great suffering.

“What?” Dean demands.

Sam sighs heavily and gazes out over the field. “You two are so weird.”

Dean’s about to respond with something really witty when Sam perks up and points into the distance. “Holy crap, look!”

Dean follows the path of Sam’s outstretched finger and his mouth drops open. On the horizon, at the far end of the field, there’s a cloud. No-- a mini tornado. A golden tornado. A… sparkly tornado?

“What the--” Dean cups his hands around his eyes like blinkers. Even with the glare of the sun blocked out, though, the tornado is just as bright -- a swirling, racing funnel criss-crossing the field way faster than a combine, or even Baby, could drive.

“Why is it-- what’s the sparkly stuff?”

Sam’s squinting too. “I think it’s the pieces of the stalks he’s separating? And they catch the light as they get tossed around.”

The tornado’s already halfway across the field, approaching them steadily. It’s about as tall as an oak tree, and as it gets closer Dean sees that Sam was right: thousands of little stalks and bits of grain and -- what had Cas called it? -- chaff are whirling and flitting amid the twisting golden dust of the tornado. The effect is a bit dizzying, kind of like that ocular migraine Dean had one time as a teenager, when an aura of tiny flashing spots obscured his vision, right there in his eye yet impossible to focus on.

He steps back instinctively, Sam mirroring his movement, when the tornado grows close to them. It whips past, blowing Dean’s jacket open, and where there was once chest-high golden grain, there’s now just dirt littered with aborted stalks.

“Damn,” Dean whispers. He’s seen Cas do all kinds of badass things, of course, but they’ve been more of the smiting and heavy-lifting variety. This is a new level of cool. In a farmer-y way. This, of course, leads Dean’s traitorous brain directly to images of worn flannel stretched tight over biceps; of a blade of hay dangling jauntily from chapped lips; of long, strong fingers gripping a pitchfork--

“--Dean!”

The pleasantly-evolving bubble bursts. Dean twitches as Sam elbows him in the ribs.

“Dude! Cas is done, come on.”

Dean blinks a few times to bring himself back to reality (a reality with wheat-harvesting angel tornados) and realizes that Sam’s heading north along the field to where a normal-sized, non-funnel-cloudy Cas is standing, brushing off his trenchcoat. Dean follows his brother and takes in the scene; the whole field really has been reduced to nothing -- just a flat, dappled expanse.

“Damn, Cas,” he says quietly as he reaches Cas’ side. His voice comes out strained and a little breathless. “That was some good plowing.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Can replies gravely. He tugs on his cuffs and some wheat dust puffs out. “It was an effective harvest. I disguised myself from mortal eyes -- including yours -- as I transported the grain to the truck, but I trust you saw the rest?”

Sam nods enthusiastically and launches straight into a barrage of questions about the physics and techniques and yadda yadda before Dean has to come up with a response. Yeah, I saw it. Yeah, it got me all tingly. That’s normal. He takes a few deliberate, slow breaths to calm the pounding in his chest.

Still tuning Sam out, he zeroes in on a single piece of wheat still stuck in Cas’ hair. It’s poking up toward the blue summer Kansas sky -- a tiny, trembling link between earth and heaven. Dean sidles up to Cas before he can overthink it. He slips his fingers into Cas’ wild, dark hair and plucks the wheat out.

He throws it on the ground. It belongs to the earth.

Sam falls silent with a choked-off laugh and Cas turns his trademark unblinking stare onto Dean. But this time there’s a slight crinkle to the edges of his eyes. A quirk of his lips.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says again. He reaches out and -- Dean stops breathing -- brushes another piece of wheat out of Dean’s collar. His warm fingers graze Dean’s throat and all Dean can do is watch the little stalk flutter to the ground.

Well. So much for a steady heartbeat.

“Hey, I’ve got stuff in my hair, too,” Sam announces, voice thick with amusement. “Anyone gonna help me out?”

Dean tears his eyes away from the enlightening piece of wheat and points a finger at Sam, leveling him with his sternest shut the fuck up face. He prays his cheeks aren’t flaming.

“If you need assistance, Sam--” Cas says, starting toward him.

“--He’s fine,” Dean interjects hastily. Maybe a little loudly. He coughs to cover it up. Smooth. “Let’s go. I wanna hit the road.”

Sam’s already jogging away before Dean’s done speaking. “I’ve still got the keys,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll warm up the car. You guys can catch up!”

Cas and Dean are left at the edge of the empty field. Dean rubs his neck and shuffles his feet, acutely aware of Cas’ piercing gaze. It’s nearly warmer than the morning sun. “Uh-- that was really cool, Cas. Thanks for letting us see it.”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas replies, measured and deep. “I enjoyed sharing that with you.”

Wow. All right. Dean needs to get moving or he’s going to explode. But not before filing that particular comment away for extensive mental perusal later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

He flashes a grin and punches Cas’ shoulder. “Come on, farmer angel. Let’s go home.”

#suptober21 #destiel #minific #i had fun with this #this is the first fic I'm ever posting y'all!#happy harvest

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justkending · 3 years

Text

A Little Party Never Killed Nobody...

1700 Follower Drabble!

A/N: Oh goodness gracious!! I’ve hit 1700 beautiful and loving followers. Everyone of you bringing more and more light into my world:’) In honor of you all helping me fulfill my dream as a writer and supporting me along the way, here is a little drabble for all you sweet humans. I can’t thank you enough, and I can’t express my love for each of you enough as well...

-So, I stole from my prompt list on an old challenge I did and created a drabble of my own with them! Hope you enjoy my lovelies<3

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5000+

Prompts:

“I actually did my hair for the first time in 3 months. I think I deserve a medal for this. “

“Dude, it’s 3 in the morning.”

____________

The banging was loud and profusely consistent as Y/N sat up from sleep with a groan. She sent a death glare to the door as if it was the culprit to waking her, but she knew it was one of her teammates that would soon be dead...

“What?!” she said bitterly, quickly tearing open the door.

Bucky was on the other side with a slick grin showing his amusement to the situation. Her hair disheveled from sleep and eyes filled with hatred, but the sports bra and tight sleep shorts were doing something for her in her annoyed state.

“Mission. Be in the helicarrier in bay 3 in 20 minutes,” he said with a smirk before turning in his step to walk away.

“Dude, it’s 3 in the morning!” she shouted after him.

“Evil doesn’t sleep,” he responded without looking back.

All he heard from behind him was a strangled groan mixed with a muffled scream as she went back in her room and slammed the door.

____________

The last to board the helicarrier, Y/N walked in throwing her things to the side, and sat in a seat immediately falling to her side to fall asleep again.

“Wake up, Y/N. We have to do a briefing,” Bucky said, slapping her boot.

“I swear to God. Do you have a deathwish?” she growled, begrudgingly sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“Really not a morning person this one,” Nat laughed coming around the corner. Y/N sending her a glare as well, but not nearly as deadly as the one she saved specifically for Bucky. “Come on. We’ll make it quick, and then we have a 4 hour flight. You can sleep then,” she nodded toward the briefing area of the giant plane.

Taking a deep breath she stood up following the rest of the team with Bucky behind her.

“Cicely Rosmarie DeLuca. Daughter of Ramone DeLuca who is a well known crime boss in Italy. Seems to run in the family as Cicely has taken over the control of her family's business within the last 2 years,” Steve explained pulling up pictures on the screen as everyone sat with informational packets on the group in front of them.

“Since when did we start handling crime bosses?” Sam spoke up.

Everyone who had been on this particular mission included; Nat, Sam, Bucky, Steve, Y/N, and Wanda. So if this many Avengers were needed, clearly something much bigger than just crime bosses were involved.

“Because the DeLuca’s are working with a division group of Hydra. We think they aren’t really in it for what Hydra wants, but more so gaining the alli and making some money on the side,” Steve sighed. “It looks like they have a means to steal plans that could wreak havoc on confidential equipment that we have in the works. Stuff that could easily be modified to become world wide dangers.”

“I have an idea,” Y/N spoke up. The whole crew turned to her. “Let’s just stop creating things that can destroy planet Earth. I feel like that’s a healthy start to creating the safe environment we’ve been fighting so hard to preserve over all these years.” The grin on her face was big and sarcastic and quickly dropped to a bitch face.

“You can’t help but be a smartass all hours of the day, can you sweetheart?” Bucky groaned a few seats ahead of her. The pet name only there because he knew how much it annoyed her.

“And you can’t help but be a nuisance to my life all hours of the day, can you jackass?” she retorted.

“You guys. Focus,” Steve interrupted, sending the two his Captain look. “You’re going to have to get along for this mission because we’re going undercover, and we only have one night to get this right.”

“Undercover how?” Wanda asked.

“There’s a gala in Venice. From what we’ve gathered, the information will be swapped there. We need to hunt it down discreetly and capture the agents working with Hydra. From there, we’ll bring them in for questioning and figure out where exactly they are getting their information from. We believe we have a spy within our facility that’s leaking all the confidential knowledge.”

“And if these Hydra agents happen to do what Hydra does best and kill themselves before we can get anything out of them, then what?” Y/N asked.

“Ever the optimist,” Bucky mumbled. No one else paid mind to it, but Y/N kicked the back of his chair making him turn and send yet another glare at her.

“We’ve prepared for that,” Steve said, nodding to Nat to go to the next slide. “We have devices, drugs, and antidotes in case cyanide becomes involved. The capsules of drug and equipment being used incapacitates them long enough to get them back to our base and keep in holding. From there, we will take other precautions to keep them from doing anything stupid that involves cyanide. Again, we don’t know if that will be the case, but with our history with Hydra, they have yet to prove us wrong.”

“So basically, you’re bringing us to go to a party to roofie Hydra agents. I gotta say, not what I was expecting from our high tech division,” Y/N nodded with a small laugh.

“It’s the best way to keep discrete and not cause a scene or hopefully any fatalities at the gala. They are using a charity for cover, and I rather not actual good people get hurt in the end,” Steve sighed. “Now, we land in 3 and a half hours. Once landed get your gear ready, look over your profiles, and get prepared for the gala. Like I said we are going undercover, so look your best.”

“This doesn’t happen to be a black tie gala, does it?” Bucky asked.

“What gala isn’t?” Sam retorted.

“Suits are already ready to go in the other room. Ladies, our dresses are in section 11 of the ship,” Nat explained, standing and gathering her things. “Y/N, that means you're going to figure out how to walk in heels,” she smirked.

“I think we’ll need more time than you’re giving us for that to ever be convincing,” Bucky snickered. Sam laughed too.

“Oh, shut the fuck up. I’ve done missions like this before. Just because I don’t wear an evening gown everyday, doesn’t mean I can’t pull one off,” she stood, walking by and flicking the back of Bucky’s head.

Her, Nat, and Wanda leaving the room while Bucky held the crown of his head in vexation.

“Son of a-” he started going to stand and retaliate.

“Buck, I’m going to need you to pull it together for one night,” Steve said, cutting him off from his path to harass Y/N. “You and Y/N are teammates. So either put on a face or suck it up for the night.”

“I’m not the one you need to be telling that too. The she-witch in there is going to be the one to mess it up if any of us,” Bucky argued.

“Y/N is a well trained spy and the best marksman on the team as of right now. She will do her job and you’ll do yours. You have to let the petty fighting go for one night, ok?”

“Come on Cap. You know it’s more than just petty arguments. Bucks gotta crush,” Sam said singing the last words.

With wide eyes, Bucky turned to Sam. “I do not! She’s nothing but an annoying headache added to my life... Scratch that. Migraine.”

“That’s what someone with a crush would say,” Sam said with a grin and squinted eyes.

“I don’t have a-” Bucky started.

“Hey Cap. Nat needs you real quick,” Y/N said poking her head back in. Everyone turned to her as if they just got caught doing an illegal act and stayed silent. “Did I walk in on something?”

“No,” Steve shook his head. “I’ll be there in a second.”

She nodded before giving everyone a furrowed eyebrow in confusion as she left. “Weirdos,” she mumbled walking away.

Steve let out a deep sigh. “Just behave yourself tonight. If you do, Y/N will too.” He walked to leave the room.

“Yeah, right,” Bucky scoffed.

“Yeah, your 100% smitten,” Sam laughed walking past him out of the room.

“No, I’m not!”

__________________

The time had come. Everyone was prepared. Lookouts were in their designated spots, any tech that was being used was up and live, and everyone was about to meet at the Gala.

“Ok, Nat, you’re with me tonight. Sam and Wanda you two will be with each other. And Bucky and Y/N, you two will be partners as well,” Steve explained over the coms.

All the women had arrived just a few minutes later and the men were already scoping out the place.

“Wait, what?” Bucky responded back. Sam standing next to him.

“Oh, he definitely did that on purpose,” Sam chuckled.

“Why the hell would he? We don’t work well together,” Bucky groaned, looking around for her.

“Well, you better figure it out. At least for tonight,” Sam patted his back, taking a champagne glass from the passing waiter and moving to find his chosen partner.

Bucky rolled his eyes into another dimension thinking about the all annoying arguments that he was sure would be apart of the night.

“Fine, Y/N what are you wearing?” Bucky asked in the comms.

“James, I’m flattered, but I don’t really like you in that way,” her sass came back through the ear piece.

“Steve,” Bucky groaned.

“Guy’s stop it. Y/N tell Bucky what you're wearing so we can start this mission. We don’t have all night,” Steve instructed with irritation.

“A black dress,” she sighed.

“Wow, real descriptive. Let me just search through all 500 of them I see,” Bucky said sarcastically.

“I’m by the rip off Vincent van Gogh painting on the east side. Next to the waterfall,” she explained.

Bucky took a deep breath walking over in her direction. It was a really crowded place, so maneuvering through people to find her became difficult. That was until he reached the fountain she was talking about, and the people had thinned out some.

Glancing all around, he couldn’t pick her out from all the black dresses he’d seen.

“Y/N, where the hell are you?” he whisper shouted in the comms. No answer. “Of fucking course no answer,” he said to himself.

But upon sharper inspection, he noticed her face in the distance.

And holy shit.

That did not look like the Y/N he was used to. I mean it did, but she was usually a natural beauty. Not that she wasn’t right now, but done up the way she was was a whole different kind of beauty.

Her dress was a black off the shoulder evening gown. The middle section of it was a see through mesh, and the top part of it looked as if it she had a bra on full display. Only bringing more attention to her perfectly modeled torso. Her hair was done in an elegant, but messy, kind of braid. The whole ensemble flowing together and creating an refined and formal Y/N that Bucky had never got the chance before tonight to see.

Having looking that stunning, Bucky wasn’t surprised to see the men around her glance her way. However, the man that was only a few feet into her space and talking up a storm looked to be making Y/N uncomfortable. She had on a fake smile trying not to bring attention to herself, but disgust to the older and space invading man, was showing in her eyes.

Quickly, Bucky maneuvered to her.

“There you are, doll,” he smiled widely at her, putting his arm out and wrapping it around her waist as he pulled her side into him. “I must have gone to the wrong fountain looking for you,” he winked.

As if in instinct, she leaned into his side and brought her hand to his chest lightly patting it.

“Oh dear, you and your directionally challenged self. I can’t take you anywhere,” she laughed in a surprisingly domestic way.

“Oh, is this your-?” the older, and now looking at him closer, creepy man started looking Bucky up and down.

“My date, yes,” she answered. “If you’ll excuse us, we have some other friends that we were supposed to be meeting with,” she patted Bucky’s chest. “Right, honey?”

Lost while staring down at Y/N, he didn’t answer right away, but when he looked back at the old man who had a suspicious look on his face, he snapped out of it.

“Uh, yes. If you’ll excuse us,” he said offering his arm, which she took and intertwined herself into him.

They walked away quickly before the man could say anything else and once a good distance away, Y/N let out a deep sigh.

“Take it you weren’t the one that approached him?” Bucky chuckled.

“99% of the time it’s not the woman doing the approaching. It’s the sexually frustrated, overcompensating, and egotistic assholes that do,” she shook her head.

Ok that made him chuckle a little.

“Well, glad I could be of service,” Bucky nodded looking around them. If he was going to stay focused on the mission, he couldn’t be looking at her. She had proven herself to be a distraction for the night while looking like that.

“Yes, thank you. I would have done something about it, but I don’t think throat punching someone in the middle of a gala would have been normal entertainment for these people,” she said almost in disgust at the crowd around them. All prissy and rich, donating only a 164th of their wealth to try and not come off as greedy.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard that right. Did you just say… Thank you?” Bucky teased.

“Don’t push your luck, Barnes,” she countered, but when she looked up at him there was a small smile on her dark maroon lips. A look Bucky had never really been on the receiving end of.

He returned it in surprise and noticed just how devastatingly gorgeous she looked up close. Had she always been this stunning and Bucky never noticed. Ok, well he had noticed, but with the constant fighting and bickering they did, it was hard to focus on it.

Without thinking, his thoughts spilled out. “You look very nice tonight,” he said to her. Instantly blushing and looking away.

“A compliment? I didn’t know you knew how to use those,” she gasped teasingly.

“Don’t push your luck, Y/L/N,” he retorted back. The smile still stuck on his face.

“Time out. Are we being civil right now?” she asked, halting her steps. Bucky stopped and looked back at her.

“It’s possible if you just learn how to be less aggravating,” he smirked.

“There it is. Whew, I was worried we were getting along for a second,” she laughed, continuing their walk.

Bucky hadn’t heard that laugh ever. At least not directed to something he had said. And damn, he liked it. Why the hell did he have to like it?

“You know? I actually did my hair for the first time in 3 months. I think I deserve a medal for this,” she added.

“I don’t think they give out medals for that,” Bucky couldn’t help himself, but laugh with her.

“Well, they should. It took quite a bit of effort. Doing hair could be an olympic spot in itself,” she shrugged.

“Ok, everyone in their sections?” Steve’s voice came through the comms.

“Good here,” Sam spoke up.

“We’re set here,” Y/N checked in.

“Great. Keep an eye out for the individuals we’re here for. Y/N, Bucky, you guys keep an eye on the DeLuca’s. If they venture off from the party, it could be the meeting we’re here for. So follow and keep us updated,” Steve instructed.

“Got it, Cap,” Bucky voiced in. “Alright, shall we mingle?” he asked, looking down at Y/N.

“I mean, if we must,” she deflated some on his arm, but quickly put on a mask straightening and acting as if she went to an event like this every weekend.

______________

They conversed, they faked life stories with the rich, they drank, and they easily convinced everyone around them they were just another pair of investors. The mission was doing fine other than the fact, nothing suspicious had happened yet.

The was until, Y/N was getting her 4th drink and Bucky noticed Cicely DeLuca was conversing with someone they had kept an eye on all night. And now, was headed off to another room with them.

“Y/N,” Bucky said coming up behind her. “They're moving.”

Y/N took a long sip of the wine in her hand. She squinted toward the group and nodded.

“Ok, let’s get to business,” she nodded, walking straight to them.

“Y/N!” Bucky shouted quickly, grabbing her arm before she got to far, and she fell into him some.

“Oops,” she giggled, stumbling on her feet.

“Wait a second. Are you drunk?” he asked in a concerned voice.

“No, no,” she brushed off. Clearing her throat. “No… Ok, a little tipsy, but not drunk,” she waved off. “I lost count of the champagne, and I’m pretty sure they have a high proof brand.”

“Dear God. We're on a mission, Y/N. What were you thinking?!”

“I was thinking, free alcohol,” she smirked before standing straighter. “No time to talk about it. We need to go.”

She turned and quietly marched to follow. Bucky close behind caught up to her and wrapped a hand her arm.

“You’re a mess. Just let me lead,” he groaned pulling her arm through his and keeping her close.

“You smell good,” she noted.

He looked down at her and saw she was giving him a soft sincere smile. Really? Out of all times, this is when she decided to make Bucky’s head all fuzzy.

“Come on,” he sighed, pulling her gently to the corridor the suspicious group disappeared into.

Discreetly they stayed around the corner and watched the DeLuca’s and guests go into a secluded room. No one else was in the halls but them and a few guards posted at the doors.

“Shit,” Bucky whispered.

“What?” Y/N asked peeking her head around to see what Bucky saw, but she peeked out a little too much and the guard heard them. He quickly pulled her back from view.

“Damn it, Y/N,” Bucky whispered to her in a frustrated way.

He was going to pull her away down another hallway to try and keep from being fully caught, but he wasn’t fast enough, and the guard started to come around the corner.

Without getting a second to prepare, Y/N crashed her lips into Bucky’s and wrapped her arms around his shoulders behind his neck. A little stunned at first, Bucky froze, but it didn’t take him long to fall into the action with her. He slowly brought his hands around her waist and pulled her flush to him. The kiss hard and frenzied.

“Hey, you two aren’t supposed to be here!” The guard shouted.

Y/N pulled away and faked shock.

“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry,” she blushed, adding a fake british accent and pushing herself into Bucky in embarrassment. “We were just trying to find a quiet place to… Well, I won’t get too graphic,” she giggled.

The man who at first had a hard glare on his face eased up and sighed.

“It’s fine. I’m just going to need you two go back to the party. This section is closed off,” he instructed coming closer.

“Of course, of course. You’re only doing your job. I get it,” she smiled a captivating and warm smile untangling herself from Bucky who had yet to be able to form a coherent thought since her surprise make out session. “Let me just grab my clutch real fast- Oop!” She dropped the purse that had opened and the contents of it spilling out. “Oh God. I’m such a clutz,” she laughed. The alcohol created a tint of red in her cheeks only making her little act more convincing.

“Here, let me help,” the large guard offered, bending to help her grap the loose items.

“Ever the gentleman,” she beamed up at him. Before he knew it though, the tiny bottle of perfume she had in the clutch let out a spritz in his face.

He coughed at first, but in seconds fell over asleep. Before he could hit the floor with a thud, Bucky moved to ease him down.

“What the fuck?” Bucky said with wide eyes as he looked back at her.

“What? I’m doing my job,” she answered, calmly and collectively putting her things back in her clutch and smoothing out her dress. Her behavior was completely different from 2 seconds ago. “Tipsy doesn’t mean I’m completely incompetent.”

The footsteps of the second guard coming around the corner were getting closer.

“Move him,” Y/N directed before walking toward the other threat.

By the time Bucky had placed the other man in a closet nearby and turned the corner where Y/N had gone, he saw her dragging the second guard back his way.

“A little help, muscles?” she groaned at the heavy set guy in her hands.

Bucky quickly did the same with the second guard placing them in closets and blocking the door with a heavy decorative table.

“Cap, we’re at the meeting room. Both guards taken care of and about to put the listening device on. You ready?”

“Nat?” Steve asked.

“On it”, Nat replied. “Y/N, if you can’t get into the room, stick it to the door. I can get feedback that way too,” she instructed.

Bucky looked at Y/N. “Where’s the device?” he asked.

“One second,” she exhaled. She placed her hand on his shoulder for support as she lifted her foot and dug out a small mechanism from her heel. “For once, heels are useful in my life,” she sighed, putting her foot back down and activating it. “Keep watch.” She moved to the double doors the suspects were in and placed it on the outside as Bucky kept an eye down the hallway.

“Why do I feel like a sidekick in this and not an actual agent?” Bucky mumbled.

“Because you're Robin and I’m the Batman in this scenario, didn’t you know?” she said with a wink and her sarcasm coming back.

He rolled his eyes before looking back down the hall.

“Ok, we’re in,” Nat explained. “Sam and Wanda head to their location for stand by in case they need backup.”

“Copy that,” Wanda spoke up.

They all listened in on the conversation but so far it had just been exchanging casualties and nothing having to do with evil plans.

“God, talk about a boring party,” Y/N sighed next to Bucky as they waited for something to happen.

“Wasn’t boring 5 minutes ago,” Bucky thought to himself.

He couldn’t help but look over to her and study her again. She was focused on the view from the balcony off to the side. You could see the party happening down there, but it was a private spot where the people below couldn’t really see them up where they were.

She fidgeted with the small mesh strap that wrapped around her arms creating the off the shoulder look. Her eyes darting around as if some form of danger was down there and not behind her.

“What are you seeing?” he asked.

“Don’t know. But something about this seems off,” she said softly.

“Off how?” he went on.

“It’s been 5 minutes of small talk and nothing about what we came here for. It’s usually straight to dirty business with these things.” She looked back at him, but the look in his eye wasn’t showing interest in the mission. He looked like he was thinking about something else. Turning back to the balcony she spoke up. “What’s going on in that head of yours Barnes? You catching something I’m not?”

“Why’d you kiss me?” he said bluntly.

She stiffened and turned back to him. “What?”

“You could of easily just acted drunk and done something with that to throw him off, but you kissed me. And not just a fake, ‘I’m trying to act kiss’ That was a full on kiss,” he said taking a step to her.

“We’re on a job Bucky. I have to make it as convincing as possible,” she said, but there was a weird hesitancy in her voice. “That or we would have been caught and dealing with two highly trained security guards, possibly causing a ruckus that would have brought attention to us.”

He paused. He was looking too far into it, wasn’t he? He just made an awkward situation out of nothing.

“Though, I can’t not say you in that suit had something to do with it,” she mumbled to herself, but the super soldier hearing beat out her quiet confession.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Bucky grinned shocked and stood behind her.

“You look good in a suit, ok? It made it a little easier kissing you,” she huffed not making eye contact with him. “Don’t get too big an ego there, bud.”

Though he could come up with about 30 different things to say and push her buttons with that confession, that’s not where his mind went.

When she turned, not hearing a witty response for the co-worker, she didn’t expect to see him right behind her and almost chest to chest at the movement.

“What are you-” she started, but looking up into his eyes, she didn’t see irritation this time. No, she saw lust. His eyes dilated to where the blues of his eyes just covered the rims. “Bucky,” she said in a hushed whisper not being able to break her gaze from his lips.

But before she could question him, he lowered himself to her level and connected their lips once again that evening. His hand going from her cheek to behind her neck pulling her in. Her hands at first on his chest nervous at the closeness, but now grabbing the lapels of his coat and pulling him closer.

Frantic and starved was the best way to describe that kiss. As if it had been a long time coming, and tasted oh so much sweeter after marinating all this time.

They eventually pulled away from the intoxicating and dizzying action. Both of their eyes practically black looking at the other.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Bucky confessed.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she said, still trying to catch her breath.

Breaking the moment up, they heard a crash come from the other side of the doors they were monitoring.

“Shit,” Y/N said, quickly making haste to the room. Bucky two steps behind her.

Bucky kicked open the doors and saw Hydra agents pointing their gun at the DeLuca’s. Though their job wasn’t to take care of the crime boss family, no one needed to get hurt.

The gun quickly turned on Bucky, but before the shot could be made, a knife flew into the man's shoulder causing him to grasp it and fall to the ground in agony.

“Nice shot,” Bucky smirked.

“Thanks, now focus!” She smiled back before the two went in and a whole fight scene evolved.

Sam and Wanda were there seconds later, and as if the easiest task in the world, all the bad guys were in the hands of the Avengers.

No one died, and everyone that was needed for questioning was put to sleep somehow and brought back to the helicarrier.

________________

“Nice work, Y/L/N,” Steve patted her shoulder that hadn’t been injured.

At some point in the fight, the sleeves she had been fiddling with on her shoulders had restricted her to defend herself from a knife. In the act of cutting her though, it also cut the sash off and Y/N used it to her advantage. She had used the fabric as a way to tie up the man who assaulted her and render him defenseless after some light manipulation with the sash made his weaponless. Crazy the things you can make dangerous when your a trained spy.

“Thanks Cap,” she smiled, hissing as the nurse on board put a disinfectant on the wounds.

“Hey, coming out with just one injury is a win when you use a ribbon as your weapon,” Bucky chuckled walking over. Hands in his pockets and a smile taking over his features.

“You’re not wrong,” she laughed before hissing again at another round of alcohol to the open cut.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but we are going to wrap this up to keep from infection. Let me go grab the gauze,” the nurse informed her, heading to the medical bay.

“Nice work tonight,” Bucky said, sitting next to her. “I guess working side by side isn’t as horrible as I suspected.”

“Eh, it wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t great,” she said shrugging. Bucky sent her a blank stare and slowly blinked, not amused. “Oh, lighten up. I’m just pulling your leg,” she laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You’re not that bad of a partner.”

He eased up and a soft smile formed on his lips before he looked back down.

“Listen,” he started.

“How do you feel about getting coffee when we get back?” she cut him off.

“What?” Bucky said sitting straighter.

“Coffee. You know that drink that gives people energy. It’s usually served around breakfast time, but in Europe they actually-”

“I know what coffee is,” he shook his head with a chuckle. “I’m just a little shocked.”

The nurse came back around the corner and motioned for Y/N to come with her. She got up and turned back to Bucky before she followed.

“You shouldn’t be, considering what happened on that balcony,” she winked, making him blush as she disappeared around the corner.

“Damn,” Bucky eventually said to himself when he could form a thought. “She’s going to be the death of me…”

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 3 years

Note

congrats on 500!!! 🥳

can i request boggie (romantic or platonic) and “can i hold your hand?” 🥺

Thanks bestie!! This is my longest prompt fill so far lol, it kind of got away from me. This is my very first time writing Boggie, and my first time writing in Reggie’s POV, so have fun. Also you asked for sensory overload Bobby but I didn’t think I could do that justice so I did migraine Bobby instead. This technically takes place in my headcanon universe of my longfic, but you don’t need to have read that to understand this. Hope you like it!

Bobby’s gone.

Reggie doesn’t think anyone but him has noticed yet. Luke and Alex are too busy arguing with each other (good-naturedly, with no real anger or malice; Reggie can always tell the difference, without even having to pay attention to what they’re arguing about, though this time he’s pretty sure it has something to do with which color m&m is superior).

But anyway, Luke and Alex aren’t paying attention to anything but each other, and Bobby slipped out twenty minutes ago with a pained expression and a mumbled excuse and he hasn’t come back yet, and apparently only Reggie has noticed.

He’s not sure what he should do about it, though. Reggie likes Bobby—he’s a great guitar player, and his movie collection is unparalleled, and one time when Reggie showed up at school with a black eye, Bobby got suspended for two weeks because he decked a guy who tried to make fun of Reggie for it—but as much as Reggie would like him and Bobby to be friends, it can’t be denied that Bobby is… well… Luke’s. And not just because Luke is even more touchy-feely with Bobby than he is with everyone else, or because Luke spends every other night sharing Bobby’s bed because he has nightmares (something Reggie doesn’t think he’s actually supposed to know), or because whenever Luke and Bobby are in a room together, they can’t stop looking at each other. But also because the only reason Bobby joined the band in the first place was because he was there for Luke when Reggie and Alex weren’t. He was Luke’s best friend when Reggie failed to be.

And Reggie hates to take sides (especially because Luke once got really mad at him and literally accused him of taking sides), but if Luke is on Bobby’s and Alex is sorta vaguely not, Reggie feels like he’s kind of statistically obligated to balance it out. So as much as they’re all a band, and as much as Luke will always be Reggie’s first and best friend, and as much as Reggie would love to get closer to their rhythm guitarist, sometimes they just can’t help pairing off, and when they do, Sunset Curve becomes, well, Luke and Bobby—Reggie and Alex.

But anyway. Reggie checks his watch. Bobby has now been gone twenty-five minutes, and Luke and Alex have moved on to discussing which animated m&m from the commercials they would date if given the option, and Reggie’s starting to get a little worried.

“Hey, guys?” he says, putting aside the bass he’d been sort of plucking at. “Can you shut up for a second?”

Luke and Alex immediately stop their bickering and turn to look at him, faces lit with matching concern. “Yeah, Reg?” Alex says gently.

“You okay, bro?”

Reggie manages a smile. They both know him so well. He gives a quick shake of his head to assure them he’s fine, their arguing wasn’t too much (later, once he’s sure Bobby’s okay, he might even put his two cents in, since the answer to both debates is obviously Green). “Do you know where Bobby went? He hasn’t come back yet.”

Alex frowns, and Luke looks around the studio as if he’s just then realizing that Bobby’s not still sitting on the couch next to him where he was half an hour ago.

“Where’d he go?” Luke gets up off the couch and clambers over the coffee table to cross the studio, past Reggie and Alex. He hauls open one of the doors and peers out into the driveway, then frowns back over his shoulder at them. “I don’t see him. He must’ve gone into the house.” A flash of something crosses his expression and he glances nervously from Reggie to Alex and back again. “I—I’d go look for him, but I don’t know if his parents are home, the car’s here.”

“I’ll go,” Reggie offers before it can become a thing, the fact that Bobby is Luke’s but Luke can’t even go after him when he leaves the studio because Luke is a missing person who Bobby’s parents don’t know lives in their garage.

“Thanks, Reg,” Luke says, and Reggie gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder as he passes.

Reggie doesn’t have to go far. He follows the path up from the driveway and catches sight of Bobby right away, sitting on his front porch with his face buried in his knees and his arms wrapped protectively around his head.

“Hey, there you are!” Reggie calls out without thinking, and then regrets it when Bobby’s head snaps up and he flinches with his whole body, a tiny whimper escaping his mouth just loud enough for Reggie to hear across the garden. Bobby’s face is so pale it’s almost green, and his eyes are hidden behind these thick dark sunglasses Reggie’s never seen him wear before.

Reggie’s heart lurches, and he hurries up the rest of the path. He sinks gently onto the porch step next to Bobby and asks as quietly as he can, “Bobby, what’s wrong?”

Bobby shoots him a shaky, unconvincing smile and whips his shades off. “Nothing, Reg, I’m—fuck.” Reggie gets half a glimpse of Bobby’s eyes—squinty and dull and full of so much pain—before Bobby goes another shade whiter, shoves his sunglasses back on, and presses his face into his lap with a groan.

Reggie’s concern spikes. He hovers a hand over Bobby’s shoulder, wanting to help but not sure if touching him when he’s like this will only make things worse. “Bobby? What—what’s going on with you, man? You’re scaring me.”

Bobby gives a miniscule shake of his head, still hidden in his folded arms. “I—it’s just… headache,” he mumbles, the words slow and slurred and muffled like even just opening his mouth too wide hurts him. He breathes heavily for a moment or two, then adds, “Really bad headache.”

“Oh.” Somehow, that’s… not what Reggie thought was happening here. Part of him relaxes some, even though his worry doesn’t lessen.

If Bobby were having a panic attack, like Alex gets sometimes, or one of those everything’s too much feelings that make it physically impossible for Luke to wear sleeves most days, then Reggie wouldn’t know what to do, how to help. Stuff like that is too personal, too individualized, and Reggie doesn’t know Bobby that well. But pain—physical pain—that, Reggie can deal with. That, Reggie knows all too well.

“Can I get you anything? What do you need?”

Bobby’s quiet for a moment, then: “Dark. Cold. Quiet… Maybe some medicine if I can keep it down.”

Reggie nods, even though he knows Bobby can’t see him. “We can do that. Is there a reason you were sitting out here in the first place? Probably easier to get dark and cold and quiet in your room, don’t you think?” He cranes his neck to see Bobby’s window above the porch roof. Reggie’s only been in there a handful of times, but if Bobby gets these headaches often, the blackout curtains on Bobby’s bedroom window suddenly make a lot more sense.

(Though, Reggie can’t help but wonder, if Bobby gets these headaches often, how has Reggie never noticed before?)

“Dizzy,” Bobby mumbles, and Reggie cuts his gaze sharply back to him. It takes a second to register that Bobby’s answering Reggie’s question and not necessarily describing how he feels now. “Couldn’t… stairs.” A pause thick enough for Reggie to get the sense there’s more, and then Bobby admits, his voice smaller than Reggie’s ever heard it, “Tried to ignore it too long. Been kinda coming on all day, but I didn’t wanna ruin rehearsal.”

Reggie’s heart gives a pang of sympathy. He makes a mental note to give Bobby a talk later, when he’s feeling better, about hiding stuff like this—and then maybe he’ll give Luke and Alex (and himself) a talk about whatever they did to make Bobby feel like he has to.

But all that can wait. For now, his only priority is getting Bobby settled in bed with all the lights off and an icepack on his head. “Okay, Bobby, I’m gonna get you inside so you can rest, okay? But can I try something first?”

Bobby stiffens. “Try what?”

Reggie’s heart’s beating a little too fast, though he’s not sure why. He swallows, tries to ignore the fact that he’s definitely blushing, and says, “Can I hold your hand?”

Bobby’s silent and still for so long that Reggie starts to worry he’s overstepped. But before he can figure out how to backtrack, Bobby grumbles something unintelligible into his lap and flops a hand in Reggie’s face. Reggie grabs it, hoping his own hands aren’t too sweaty, and expertly applies pressure to the point between the base of Bobby’s thumb and index finger.

The effect is almost instantaneous: Bobby shudders, and his muscles relax like a ripple going through him, and he slowly sits up and raises his head. Reggie can’t really read his expression with the sunglasses still on, but what he can see of Bobby’s face looks less pinched, less pained, and he’s gotten some of the color back in his cheeks.

He stares at Reggie, mouth hanging open, and breathes, “Whoa.”

Reggie blushes, self-conscious, but doesn’t stop gently massaging Bobby’s hand. “Better?”

Bobby nods. “How—how did you know how to do that?”

Reggie manages a sheepish smile. “My mom gets migraines. And, well, hangovers. So I’ve kinda picked up some tricks. Coffee really helps her, too, if you can stomach it.”

Bobby’s still staring at him, and Reggie swallows, his stomach giving a weird little flip that’s not exactly unpleasant. Finally, Bobby looks away and gingerly pulls his hand out of Reggie’s to rub at his temples. “Well, thanks, Reg, that really helped. I’m gonna go inside before it gets worse again. Can you, uh—”

“Yeah, yeah, no, I’ll—tell the guys… something.”

Bobby gives him a shy, grateful smile, and then slowly pushes himself to his feet.

When the front door closes behind Bobby, Reggie lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He feels jittery and out of breath, like he just drank seven sodas or ran a marathon or something. His hands are tingly where they’d touched Bobby’s, and he can’t get the image of that last little smile out of his head.

Bobby doesn’t smile very often, and when he does, it’s not like that.

(And if it is, it’s not at Reggie.)

Reggie mutters a curse and copies Bobby’s earlier position, his face hidden in his hands. Because he thinks he might like Bobby.

But Bobby is Luke’s.

sorry bestie

Send me a pairing and a prompt to celebrate my 500th follower!

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slasherkisss · 3 years

Photo

CABIN FEVER - JASON VOORHEES X READER [CHAPTER 8]

Summary In an effort to remove yourself from your previous life in the big city, you move to Crystal Lake. The cabin you had inherited from your father makes the perfect place for a fresh start, however, there is a secret in these woods (and within yourself) that you must come to accept…and to love.

A/N I finally managed to get some muse for this again! I have an idea of where I’m going to go with it and I can’t wait to actually finish this project, I’m gonna do it if it kills me. Here’s the next chapter at least...a year later lol

——————————————————————————————

Months passed between the day of slaughter, and something inside of you felt heavy even after the deed had been said and done.

True to his word, Jason had taken care of everything. You had woken up the day after the Incident to clean sheets and the disappearance of both blood and body in your mind. It was as though the back of your head was trying desperately to push the thoughts of slaughter from you. To lock it away inside of your subconscious in a way that you would never be able to reach it again. It was something you didn’t need to remember, your brain insisted with desperation lacing the tone it usually took when it spoke to you, and you should simply accept that it would never be like that again.

The nightmares did not let you forget, though.

Each night seemed plagued with them, some more grueling than the other. More desperate in its plaintiveness each time you thought through the story that played within it. Your body in each dream pushed itself through dark, craggy forests and against the bare ground of soil. Roots curled with hunger at your legs as you chased your victim, breath heaving and weapon tight in your fist as you caught up to the terrified little thing. Your weapon always seemed to change in the time of your rest. Sometimes it was the trowel, pointed at its tip and built only for tilling the earth, and other times it was a machete with a glimmering blade and reflective steel like teeth bared for murder.

Sometimes, you were the one running from yourself. Your own form silhouetted in the darkness as you chased down who you knew you had to kill. Sometimes you tripped on the edges of roots so thick they might as well have been hands, and looked up into your own wild gaze. Your own form as you shakily held up the trowel against your fingertips. Sometimes it was you who screamed into the darkness as the weapon fell down into your skull and - oh - you could feel the pain in your body as the pressure drowned you in rivulets of dark red against soil.

You woke up more often than not during the night now, the nightmares ripping through your body in the form of a loud, shaky scream that would fill the forest late into the evening. You found yourself more than once awoken by Jason. His hands would cling to your sides and be pressing you firmly into the bed, keeping your arms away from yourself as what cuts you had given your skin due to your ragged nails blossomed over you. It was as though you were trying to write a message into your own body. If you squinted close enough, the lines you had scribbled with your keratin on the soft flesh or your inner arm were almost readable in their entirety.

Your fault. You did this. She’s dead. It was you! Always you.

As you pondered the threats of the voice inside of your head, staring idly at the slowly healing scars that littered your body now, you were pulled away by a knock at the door. It was a pounding and forceful thing that sent your already sensitive head reeling into a momentary headache. You could feel the pain behind your teeth and you could already tell it would slowly become a migraine after a few more hours of leaving it be. You were sure you had some pain killers somewhere left in your bathroom’s medicine cabinet. If not, you mused, you had willow bark and some rosemary out in your steadily growing garden. You could always whip up a remedy for it using those.

The second solid knock on the door made you more weary as you approached it, however. It was not how Jason knocked. He did so gently, afraid of breaking your doorframe if he slammed on it too hard. He never wanted to startle you with his force and, besides, as of late you’ve been allowing him to simply walk into your home without knocking. It was his home now as much as yours and the thought permeated your weariness to offer a fleeting touch of euphoria.

The third knock was accompanied by a voice.

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

You tensed, palms suddenly sweaty as you stared at the doorknob. You felt your stomach lurch in terror as you chewed on the inside of your cheek, biting down hard enough to feel the skin give into a bruising press of your molars. Jason was not due back from his daily patrol of the lake for an hour still. Likewise, he did not speak. He did not have a voice like that. Rough. Open. Unknown.

With a deep, long inhale you gripped the doorknob and slowly opened it up, the old wood creaking with every turn. You made a mental note to oil its hinges when you could.

The man standing in front of you was middle aged, the graying of the hairs littered in his beard giving it away that he was pushing closer to his 50s at the earliest. The thin lines of his wispy hair were hidden behind a dark brown Stetson rimmed with a small tassel of gold and a badge that indicated his status as a police officer from the local town station. Your mind could not read the words decorated on his tanned uniform. They floated against his skin like ancient hieroglyphs as you gripped the doorknob of your home tighter. Your knuckles turned white behind the frame.

You felt a cold rush of air hit your body and you stiffened, brows furrowing as you tried to act surprised and not as terrified as you felt beneath your skin.

“Afternoon, Ma’am,” The officer tilted his hat respectfully at you, “Sorry to bother you in… Your home. I just had a couple of questions for you regarding a few missing folks if that’s alright.”

You did not miss the pause in his tone as he looked around the forest, clearly uncomfortable in the vast outdoor space. You almost wanted to snort. Wasn’t it his job to patrol the woods? To keep hooligans and stupid hunters out of here in the first place? No, he wasn’t even doing that. Instead it was Jason who protected this forest. Who kept everything within it safe, far better than this fool who stood before you could ever do. You shifted on your feet, ignoring the damp spot of sweat growing on the back of your neck.

“Y-Yes that’s quite alright,” You managed out in a surprisingly even tone, your stutter passing as surprise for seeing an officer so suddenly, “It’s horrible to hear some people are missing, especially this time of year.”

“I know,” He sounded almost genuine in his remorse, “That’s why we’re asking around in case anyone’s seen them. Last I heard from another source, they were up camping out in the forest area around here. I figured since you lived up here, you’d be able to tell me if you’ve seen anything of ‘em around or close to your property? Have you ever walked around the forest and caught sight of some folks? Or seen any campsites set up close by, maybe?”

Your mind flashed to the images of the bodies dead on the forest floor, their red blood soaking into the mossy ground. Dead eyes stared forward at you in your mind, glossy with haze and their faces contorted into fear as their brains decorated the edges of tree trunks around you. You remembered the woman, your spade lowered into her skull and her blood warm on your hands as you watched her still pulsating organs devour themselves in an ouroboros of sin.

“Ma’am?”

You looked up with surprise, snapping yourself out of your momentary disassociation. You swallowed and sighed.

“Sorry, I was thinking if I’d seen anyone,” You were surprised how easily the lie left your lips as you shook your head, “Unfortunately, I haven’t seen anything but the deer lately. As far as I know, no one’s been around here.”

There was a momentary pause in the conversation. A quiet lapse as the officer gazed forward at you, a furrow to his brow marking his concern. Your heart pounded hard in your chest, moving its way up to your throat. He knew, you thought with terror rising in your veins, he knew that you were lying. That you had done it. He saw through your lies and into your soul. Into your sins and-

“Alright,” He nodded, “Thanks for your input. Now you don’t hesitate to call the station if you see any suspicious activity in this place, alright? It’s dangerous living alone in this forest, but rest assured we’ll keep it under control.”

“It’s been pleasant so far,” You find yourself speaking out softly, almost with a smile, “But I… appreciate the security, Officer…”

“Hughes. Darcy Hughes,” He introduced himself, his smile lines emphasizing his age as he gave you a brisk nod, “Take care of yourself and don’t get into any trouble, then.”

“I’ll certainly do my best.”

With another tilt of his hat and a hum to his lips, he turned away from you to file back into his police car that he had brought out, the top of it already slightly covered by fallen pine needles and leaves. He brushed them off gently before getting back in, offering one last wave to you through his windshield. You waved back, a smile plastered on your face as you watched him start up his vehicle, back out of the dirt driveway, and turn down the barely wide enough path to the town once more.

You didn’t stop waving until you were sure his car was out of sight. Slowly you turned back into your home, closing the door behind you, where you stood for a long, quiet moment.

Your legs shook the next second, trembling so hard that they gave out from underneath you. You collapsed to the floor, gasping for a breath you didn't realize you had been holding this whole time. You coughed, wincing at the pain of splinters gathering in your kneecaps, and you threw your hands out to catch yourself as you heaved. For a moment you felt like you were going to vomit onto the floor in front of you, but your throat was so dry with exhaustion that nothing dared to come up and ruin its scratchy heat.

You did it. You had made it out of that situation. Yet the weight on your shoulder burned like a brand, searing an invisible mark into your flesh as you cried out in pain, arching your back as if to escape the sensation.

Liar, your mind laughed at you, what a liar, lair, lair-

A new knock on the door startled you from your writhing episode on your floor. Your face paled in terror. Was the officer back? Maybe you could ignore his knocking. Maybe you could pretend to be in the back of your house and ignore the sound that scratched on your eardrums like a funeral march. Perhaps it was Jason? Returning early from his patrol and sensing your distress behind the door of your home? Your heart momentarily sparked with hope as you stood up on your feet again, feeling light headed as you turned and reached out, wincing at the feeling of the knob beneath your hand once again.

When you pulled it open this time, it was neither Hughes nor Jason. But someone new.

He was an older man, older than Officer Hughes certainly, with barely any hair on his wrinkled, liver-spotted forehead. The way his lip shriveled around his mouth indicated his lack of teeth, his sagging cheeks only serving to make the glare of dark brown eyes he trailed on you all the more intimidating. He stepped forward, invading your space the moment you opened the door. The scent of alcohol was radiating off of him, making you want to gag and cover your mouth as you took one step back into your home, swallowing hard.

“C...Can I help you?”

“Saw you talkin with Officer Friendly there,” He growled out with a raise of his eyebrow, “Told him you didn’t see nothin, didn’t ya?”

“Well, yes I-”

“Been a while since you been in town too, huh?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. It was true, you rarely visited the small town just outside of Crystal Lake. Since your self sustaining farm had taken off, you really only visited for canned goods to stock up on during the winter, or to sell some of your fresh produce to the local grocery store for a little extra money in your pocket here and there. When you did visit, you rarely talked to any of the locals that did not demand your immediate business. You exhaled, your fingertips drumming on the wood of your door.

“I haven’t had a need to.”

The man smiled, confirming your hypothesis on his missing teeth.

“Ya may have fooled the police, girl, but oh I know. I know just what you are, you know. Ain’t gonna pull the wool over ol’ Eddie’s eyes, oh no siree.”

He - Eddie you guessed - got closer to you, his eyes narrowing in a squint as you set your jaw in worry.

“Yer a witch, ain’t ya.” The way he said it didn’t mean it was a question, “Livin out here with yer potions and yer nature. I bet ya killed those folks, too! But oh, it don’t matter. You got em fooled, don't you?”

He was advancing more now, dangerous in his posture towards you as you swallowed hard. You stepped back into your home, moving your grip on the door to quickly shut it, but his boot clad foot blocked the entrance so it didn’t shut all the way. You gasped as he crawled through the gap, a spider with crazed eyes and gnashing jaws as he reached out for you with a glare.

“I knew you’d be trouble since ya came! Changing our town’s ways an communin out here with them spirits. Y’ain’t gonna fool me, not me! You’ll get turned right in and they’ll see ya for what ya are, ya witch! Ya daughter of Satan! Ya-”

He suddenly wasn’t there anymore. With a surprised yelp his entire form was peeled away from your door. You held your breath in surprise, your heart beating loud in your ears as you waited for another sign that he would come in. That he would break the door down and rip apart your form in search of his evidence. In search of anything to call you a witch once more. You looked at your hearth of bones and dried plants, setting your jaw as you understood the accusations, but did not want to hear them.

Instead all you heard outside was another strangled gasp of surprise. A solid snap of something fragile. A thud of body to wood.

You waited a few more seconds before gripping the frame in trembling hands, slowly peeling the door open to reveal what had happened just feet from you in your home.

Eddie’s head was bent to face his back, his eyes wide and dead in shock as his jaw hung limply, broken and bruising the tender skin of his old face. Only a small amount of blood dribbled from the dislocation of his jaw and neck, the tendons bursting against the bruising skin. His fingers curled in on themselves like a dead spider would curl its legs on itself. You stared, blank and unsure for the longest of moments as your heartbeat slowed in your chest. As you licked your suddenly too chapped lips in an effort to hold back your growing smile.

You failed, exhaling as the edges of your mouth upturned into something of a wide, relieved looking grin. You looked upwards from the crumpled body before you, a blush heating your cheeks as you admired the man standing in front of it, his breath coming in ragged gasps against his chest as he followed your gaze.

Jason reached out to you, ignoring the body on your porch. His fingertips roamed the vast expanse of your skin, feeling for any wounds or any indication that you had been hurt before he could reach out to protect you. When you gave a swift sign of ‘I’m fine’ his shoulders sagged in relief. His gaze returned momentarily to the body at his side. One hand reached up to his form, the awkwardness of signing with just a single one making it hard to read but understandable nonetheless. He refused to let go of you for even a moment.

‘What happened?’

‘Police came. Townsfolk are getting suspicious.’

The hand on your shoulder tensed, the pressure in creasing for only a moment.

‘Then I’ll kill them.’

‘No! You can’t get all of them.’

‘I want you to be safe.’

‘I’m safe with you. Always with you.’

Jason paused then, his hand finally freeing your arm as he looked away. He gazed down at the body in front of him, its tangled limbs and broken spine an homage to just what he would do for you. As if aiding in his thoughts, the wind blew gently through the trees. Fallen leaves swirled upwards in a momentary tornado. In the background, your chickens clucked in their coops and the soil housing both your plants and the dead bodies gathered for fertilizer filled Jason with a suddenly intense sort of want. He looked back at you. Through his mask you could see conviction. Surprised at the look, you tilted your head at him, brows furrowed in confusion. You reached your hand out to touch his face, rubbing along the rough edges of his hockey mask in a gentle gesture, one he leaned into as your touch grounded him.

“What’s wrong?” You spoke this time, your tone a weak whisper as you searched his gaze, “What are you thinking about?”

How he knew the next sign was beyond you, yet he moved his fingertips with such conviction that you could not help the heart stopping gasp that welled inside of you when he managed it:

‘Marry me.’

#jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees imagine #jason voorhees #friday the 13th #friday the thirteenth #cabin fever #cabin fever series #slasher x reader #slasher imagine

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